What the children got: Garfield, candles, fuzzy bear pins

Feed me

In lieu of posting More things I didn't buy this week, I'm bringing you another installment of What the children got. Another way of putting it might be: "More things I wouldn't have bought had I not had my children with me."

Exhibit A: Garfield. I've nothing against the crusty curmudgeon cat; in fact, I was a huge fan myself back in the day. For much of my youth, the first thing I saw in the morning upon awakening was the classic "Have a Nice Day" poster with a typically misanthropic Garfield twist (he's chomping the yellow smiley face). And, I mean, if I saw that poster at a sale and it wasn't all moldy or torn, I'd snap it up. Actually, I'm feeling an itch in my fingers right now to start a new tab and commence googling said poster. My daughters would love it!

But, no! I won't. Garfield is one of those quasi-collectibles that is just ubiquitous. Like Beanie Babies. If I were to start supporting their Garfield habit, we would be overrun. But my main issue with having been bribed into purchasing this Garfield in exchange for (grudging) cooperation at an estate sale is that I've got an oft-broken rule against buying stuffies. They're just gross. Even the spanking-clean, like-new-with-tags never-been-played with variety you see artfully arranged on some sad old person's bed. I ran this guy through the dryer, pointlessly. The dryer doesn't kill bedbugs—it doesn't even kill lice!

A girl's candle is her castle

The younger daughter insisted on my buying this castle candle. I'm a hater of stinky candles, but this is the sort of candle she'll never want to burn because then the beautiful castle would melt. In other words, it's the kind of candle I can get behind.

Shroomin'

The elder daughter made me buy this groovy mushroom candle, which I like even better because (a) it's smaller and (b) it's a mushroom. She's been raised thrifting, so I suppose it's inevitable that she'd acquire a taste for au courant toadstools (and owls).

Anybody wanna buy a pin?

Confession: No one made me buy this fuzzy bear pin display. My kids weren't even with me when I spied this atrocity! I thought Instagramming it would quell my desire to pay $1 for it—sometimes that really works. Since I signed up last year, Instagram has saved me a ton of money. But in this case, it wasn't enough. I knew my kids would love to hawk fuzzy bear pins in one of their faux stores. And now I'm stuck with it.