My Preschooler Is a Mini-Hoarder

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I think I may need to stage an intervention for my 5-year-old daughter. Why, you ask? Because I think she just might be becoming a hoarder.

Now, don’t get me wrong. She isn’t saving all of her yogurt containers and sleeping on a pile of old preschool newsletters. Yet. But she does have quite an assortment of things that she refuses to part with and has amassed growing collections of.

Here are just a few of the random things that she hoards like they are worth more than the Hope Diamond:


Small rocks, big rocks, shiny rocks, dull rocks — my daughter loves rocks. She picks them up everywhere we go and tells me why each and every one is special. It is super cute. Except we now have enough rocks to fill in Lake Eerie. Rocks are great and all, but they are dirty, and heavy, and great at scratching up furniture. Oh yeah, and we also have a 3-year-old who thinks these rocks are great to throw … and eat.


Now, before you say, “But collecting coins is a worthwhile hobby or at the very least a great way to learn about saving money” Lemme stop you right there. First off, my daughter doesn’t collect rare coins. She probably considers the wooden nickel her grandpa gave her the most valuable one she has.

Second off, she doesn’t save this money for future purchases, she hoards it so she can take it all out and play with it in front of her brother while telling him he can’t join in because he’s “just going to choke on them!” So, yeah. There’s that. Though her hoarding does benefit me when I need a quarter for laundry. Score!

Stuffed Animals

At this point, we could probably get rid of all of our furniture and beds and just fashion things out of stuffed animals. Whether they’re the good ones from the Disney Store or the crappy ones from the bowling alley skill-crane machine, it makes no difference … there is no thinning the furry family.

They all have their place in the herd hierarchy and no amount of reason will win you the chance to rid her room of any of them. Now stop asking before she starts crying again over the thought of losing Pluto, or random lizard, or creepy bear.


Speaking of the Hope Diamond, my daughter thinks every plastic beaded necklace, stretchy bracelet and vending machine spider ring is the most beautiful and priceless thing she has ever laid eyes on. Hence, she refuses to part with any of them. Ever. If New Orleans has a bead famine, she can easily provide enough for the 2016 through 2026 seasons.

She could also keep Goodyear in business by providing enough rubber bracelets to create a year’s worth of tires, and single-handedly outfit every kid in the world who likes Frozen with their very own Anna or Elsa ring (who am I kidding, everyone wants Elsa — poor Anna!).


It’s not so much that my daughter has 50 purses. It’s more that she likes to fill each purse with random crap from around the house. Like her toothbrush, My Little Ponies, coins (see above) and the remote. We once couldn’t find my daughter’s woobie (security blanket) for an entire month. Turns out it was in one of her bags of crap that was buried in the back of the toy closet. Now THERE’S a month’s worth of sleep I will never get back. I think I have spent more time emptying out the randomness that is contained in my daughter’s bags over the last year than I have eating, sleeping and working. Combined.


With the amount of drawings and other artistic expressions littering my house, I think the Lourve could take down its entire collection and feature nothing but my daughter’s work. And still have plenty to keep in storage for later. Which is great, except most of these “works of art” don’t exactly rival that of the Venus de Milo or Mona Lisa. Most of these exhibitions are best described as “tumbleweeds in green” or “abstract stick figure family.”

I love displaying her art, but my daughter brings home 500 tiny sheets of paper with scribbles on them. Every day. And she wants to keep them. All. I have taken to storing some of her work in our archives folder, better known as the recycling bin…


To the next person who tries to give my daughter a sticker, I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don’t have money, but what I do have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over the last five years. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you put down the sticker now, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you, but if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you and I will kill you.

What’s the funniest thing your child hoards?

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Article Posted 5 years Ago

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