In my hurry to get Miss Curly Mop out of the car the other day, I accidentally dropped some of her toys under the car.
I deliberated for a second. We were already late for her 12 month vaccinations and I did not fancy showing up to the clinic with road muck all over my dress.
But I should have known there was no way I was going to remember to look for them when we returned to the car. I should have known that I was relegating them to that saddest of categories: the Lost Toys.
According to Toy Story 3, Lost Toys become bitter and vindictive, although I have difficulty imagining what sort of mischief two Ikea stacking cups can get up to. Regardless, I do wonder what will become of them.
I see Lost Toys (and their mates, Lost Shoes) all the time. They are propped up against light poles, wedged against the curb, displayed on park benches. Well-meaning passers-by often try and draw attention to their plight by displaying them where their careless owners will see them, but more often than not, they remain lost. I'm certainly not going back for two Ikea stacking cups, despite the joy it gave my baby to bang them together on car journeys.
What will happen to Curly Mop's Lost Toys? They won't degrade or decompose anytime this century. It's unlikely they will become a flash new home for a funky (and abnormally large) garden snail. They're full of tiny holes so they're not much good to carry food or use to bail out a sinking boat.
What fate have I resigned them to?