About a month ago, I cut these golden locks. Earlier this week, I opened the TV credenza in our bedroom (don’t judge – the sex may have actually improved. Who says TVs in the bedroom can’t be a good thing?) to stand face-to-face with a newly-snipped tuft waiting for me there.

Yes, these little priceless keepsakes aren’t particularly organized and don’t seem to discriminate about where they might want to land in my crazy little world.

So, creepy is alive and well in our household. Do you still want to be friends?

As for the oh-so-lovely pieces of art that come early and often and secretly haunt our subconscious minds by telling us that one day we will pay for it if we throw anything that our future Picasso draws: I keep the things my child seems to especially love and care about – and the occasional piece that calls my name – and I toss (I mean, recycle, Greener) the rest. I know, I know. One day, I’m going to regret it.

When that day comes, and I’m asked, I’ll say, “I have saved everything my little Picasso has ever drawn.”

Shhh! Don’t tell. It can be our little secret.