Padded pockets

Each morning when I iron little boy pants, I always await the surprise contents of the bumpy pockets I press. Most mornings it's rocks, dozens of little shiny momentos plucked carefully throughout his day. Some days it's old band aides or crumpled and washed used tissues. But on special days, like this morning, I get tickled by the pure randomness of Landon's little treasures.












A squished gum wrapper, an Elvis Insiders pin and card (?), and the pièce de résistance: a plastic cockroach.

Must have been a banner day.