I’m not a neat freak, but I do like to be organized.  At work, people make cracks about how tidy my desk is (especially now that I’ve moved because the former person in my space was one of those types who has piles and piles everywhere, but can somehow find everything).  I just can’t function well with disorder (not that you’d know that from looking at the one counter in my kitchen where everything gets dumped).

With two kids it’s hard, and I try to let them leave ‘projects’ out for a few days: train sets, elaborate block buildings, etc.  Today, however, it was time to tidy the playroom.  In the process, I stumbled across one of those little walking scooters, the kind a little kid can either stand behind and walk or sit and scoot on.  BB and LB are really too big for it, but LB still loves to scoot, so we still have it.

For some reason, I flipped up the lid of the seat, a bad mistake.  There inside was . . .

a petrified ice cream sandwich.

Now, let’s think.  It’s January, right?  Even giving things the benefit of the doubt, that has to have been there since September/October when the toy was last outside and kids might have been chomping on ice cream sandwiches (and what, put it in the secret compartment for safe-keeping?!?).  

I’m really shocked that it didn’t stink and that we hadn’t had a massive infestation of bugs or other nasty things.  The only thing I can figure is that it petrified or dried out while out in the heat during the summer and no one ever looked inside the seat.

I tried to convince mr. jolt to clean it up, but he didn’t.  I really, really don’t want to.  So, for now, the scooter is out in the garage where at least the cold will keep it from rotting further until its warm enough to use a pressure hose or something.  I’m sure as heck not reaching in there with my hands.  Yeeccchh!

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