Molly Moo Cow entered the Fisher Price world in 1972, the same year as our oldest son, Ben, was born. He latched onto Molly while sitting in the shopping cart at Toys ‘R Us close to his first birthday and fell in love. We’ve all experienced those moments in a store when our toddler refuses to hand over something for the cashier to ring up and starts crying as if he’s caught in the conveyor belt.

I have saved her for over fifty years. Every time I purge more “stuff”, I set Molly Moo Cow aside. I can’t bear to see her go.

I retrieved her from storage during the holidays and presented her to my son, who was baffled by my excitement. He remembered her, he said, but he might have said that to be kind.

It didn’t matter. She still means a lot to me, and “Moo” was one of Ben’s first words.

On the other hand, last weekend Banjo Man showed me something he had saved from Ben’s childhood. Banjo Man is deeply sentimental and saves many, many things.

Do you know what this disgusting thing is?

It’s Ben’s pacifier.

And totally disgusting.

They say that “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure”, but this is going too far.

I made him throw it in the garbage.