Tonight I started prepping Mason’s old clothes to sell at the huge consignment sale next month. The “pre-baby” plan was to have a huge garage sale, but then I discovered this sale and it’s a much better deal – for $10 and a 30% cut, you join hundreds of other sellers in an event that sees 5000+ people over three days. Every item is priced at a minimum of $2, so stuff that would sell for 50 cents in my front yard will sell for $3-$5 there. The sale is not until mid-September, but considering every item needs to be hanging on a hanger and tagged with very specific information, I knew this wasn’t a last minute project.
I knew it was going to be time consuming. I knew it was going to be tedious. I knew it was going to seem like a daunting task, I mean, that’s SIXTEEN months of outfits for a boy who barely wore the same outfit twice his first 8 months. But I wasn’t prepared for how sad it would be.
The outfit his Great Aunt Linda gave him? Or how about the outfit he wore home from the hospital and then wore on his first day of daycare 9 weeks later? How about his first 4th of July outfit or that adorable cow outfit? The turtle outfit I tried to lure his Auntie Michelle into taking him home with or the 1st Father’s Day shirt that I had custom made? Or maybe all the adorable clothes Auntie Sarah made him for his first Easter. They all seem too impossibly small to have ever fit my big boisterous toddler in, yet it seems like just yesterday he wore them. 16 months seems like a lifetime and a second ago, all at once.
Who know someone could get so attached to clothes? Certainly not me!