One thing that’s great about blogs is, if you type quickly, you can fairly well document the hysteria of your children’s younger years in a short time frame. I knew something like this would come along eventually. And I fervently prayed for it when a few of my friends were creating scrapbook pages that literally rose from their binding. 3-D castles anyone?

No.

I simply cannot scrapbook. Truthfully, 99% of the reason for that is that I really don’t like it all that much. There, I said it. I’m an anti-scrapbook-ite.

When our kids said or did something funny (or ridiculous) enough that I’d orally regale someone with it, that someone would inevitably advise, “You’d better write that down!”

I quickly became concerned. I had twins and a 2-year-old. I hadn’t time to find a pen let alone write anything down!

Will I really forget all of this? I wondered. Will I only remember the moments that involved unpleasantries?

My solution was found in Tupperware (isn’t it always?). A little see-through box with a hinged lid served as the temporary burial grounds for humorous sayings and unforgettable choices that would, after a week’s time, become not only forgettable but forgotten.

The idea was that I’d jot down the basics of a phrase or incident onto a scrap of paper, toss it into the Tupperware box, and return to the box at a later date to document them more formally. I had no idea what that meant (and still don’t) but, in just a few seconds, I could release one memory from my brain onto a piece of paper and forget it. Until I found time and a non-scrapbooking approach to doing something nicer with it.

I found one of my boxes the other day — I have a few — and began to go through it. It was like unearthing a time capsule. I’m so glad for the Tupperware Treasure Box, for without it, I would never have remembered the day that I was going through alphabet flash cards with Jack and Henry (otherwise known as Two and Three), who were probably pushing 4 years of age and still thought “Q” was a number.

I held up the letter “A.”

Me: What letter is this?

Jack: I don’t know.

I held up the letter “F.”

Me: What letter is this?

Jack: I don’t know.

Me: What letter sounds like ffffff?

Jack: OH! I know – FEE!

Me: Um, that’s not a letter.

Henry: Give me one.

Me: What’s this letter? (holding up the letter “I”)

Henry: I don’t know.

Me: I’ll give you a hint. It’s the first letter in the word IIIIIIce Cream.

Henry: OH! I know – CONE!”

I vaguely remember crying myself to sleep that evening, sure that these two would never be able to read a road sign, would therefore never pass their driving test, and would (therefore) never be able to move out one day. Not that I’m looking forward to that day. Because I’m not. But in my overall life plan, it does happen. At some point. Just sayin’.

They are now 7 and I’m pleased to report that, most of the time, they know the alphabet. However, the other day Henry asked me what kind of seeds you need to plant to grow Cajun spiced turkey breast.

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Be sure to hop on over to Little Humans Being to enter the BuckleyBoo giveaway! It’s one of the neatest developmental toys I’ve ever seen (though, sadly, it won’t scrapbook for you).