Before the boy arrived, I had grand plans of creating an annual scrapbook that documented each year of his life. It’s not really like me to do something so crafty, but I figured that’s what parents did for their kids. Reality soon set in and I didn’t make a single scrapbook (although I do have all of the materials to make them. Maybe I’ll get to it when I’m a full-time, stay-at-home dad…)

My dad, who is something of a hoarder, has pretty much kept every single scrap of paper that my siblings and I ever touched. There are volumes and volumes of drawings and homework projects scattered throughout my parents’ house. Maybe seeing my dad collect all that crap is the reason why I thought I was supposed to do the same thing.

Today I came home and found that my dad sent a school scrapbook for the boy. It’s a memory book with sections for each year in school. The boy is delighted, of course. Looking at the book, though, I’m overwhelmed by the thought of scrapbooking every year of my son’s life in school. The hoarding gene is a powerful thing.

I can’t believe the boy is starting kindergarten in September. Scary.

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