And Don't Do It Again, Mama!

I keep a lot of Collins artwork and things that come home. Even after it's been folded in a million creases, crammed in his back pack, and smoothed on the bus. It's displayed proudly on the walls in his room. 

But the printed pictures of creepy looking I-don't-even-know-what-that-is where all he did was add stickers?  Garbage. Letter traces where I can barely discern the pencil line? Round file. 

Today I got caught. He went to throw something away, and I happened to be in the kitchen. He looked at me accusingly "How did this get in here?" (The garbage can) "Why did you do this, Mama? (With attitude.) You don't put my art work in the garbage! This is my artwork!" He picks it out (still clean, don't worry). I remind him that he did not see how it got in there, and he doesn't know who did it. He walks over, looks at me sternly, wags his finger in my face, "And don't do that again, Mama!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed at him. It was so funny that my four year old was using the words he ignores against me  all-out giggling. 

I again reminded him that he hadn't seen, and couldn't know, who did it and how. (Lawyer-in-Training?) And, please, show me what your artwork is about. It's on the counter, we'll show Daddy, and about the time that the counter clutter matches up with garbage day, it'll go away again.