A few years ago I was digging, like literally digging, in the garage looking for the wagon to pull the kiddos to the pool in. As I was standing on a mound of crap a stupid ass trophy fell on my foot! I picked the trophy up and without thinking about it threw it as hard as I could across the garage and it crashed into the wall. It was one of the best feelings I've ever had. A feeling of relief. One less item I had to deal with. I never told Kevin about that incident. Or how surprisingly satisfying it was. I have to deal with stepping on a million MLP, LPS, Barbie, Shopkins, you name it, on a daily basis inside. But those items belong to my precious children. Who are, without a doubt, spoiled beyond belief. But their painful crap is explainable. They are kids. AND they play with it! I just want one person to tell me why a grown ass man feels the need to keep a million trophies from childhood! It's just something else I have to look at. Another pile of clutter I have to figure out where to hide! And it's pointless! They will NEVER EVER be displayed in our home. So WHHHHHYYYYYY???????