I'm a minimalist. In many many aspects of my life. This may or may not be a good thing.
When going on a trip, I plan ahead to determine the least amount of items I will need. When working, I try to figure out the most efficient way of grading/planning where I won't have to take any work home but the students will still be learning. In cooking, I attempt shortcuts to make things go quicker (who says water has to be boiling before you put noodles in?). In choosing items for decorating my house, I go with the less is more policy. I abhore clutter. It just drives me crazy. I would rather throw things away then keep them on memory shelves. Tiny knick knacks are not for me. Sentimental keepsake items? Not a fan.
Husband, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. He likes to keep things. He likes to collect things. He likes to let things pile up until you have to make paths to get from one end of a room to the other. Boy am I thankful he has his own office space for all of the above.
I have no idea what Baby is going to be like. I can tell you, though, she is already a collector. A collector of stuffed animals, that is. Baby has one relative in particular who loves to get her stuffed animals. She got one the day she met this relative at three weeks old. She got one just because. She got two more during a recent visit. She just got two more this past week, one of which says "Baby's First Christmas."
These stuffed animals aren't small, either. Actually, they are about the same size as her. All of them.
What in the world am I supposed to do with them? Where do I put them? How do I kindly tell people that Baby doesn't need any more stuffed animals?
I know in thinking ahead that they will be very useful for when she throws tea parties and puts on little plays. They will be great friends that she can confide her secrets to.
But if this trend continues, Baby is going to have over sixty stuffed animals by the time she turns five.
A bit more than minimal, I must say.