Feeling Kind of Tingly Inside

I spent the weekend sorting out my storage room.

Congratulate me -- I threw away and/or donated, by a score of 3-to-1, more than I kept, and managed not to ask what I was thinking when I kept some of that stuff where The Husband could hear.

The biggest donations came from The Boy (I did his room and closet since I was on a rampage), who kindly permitted me to donate all things Fisher Price, Sesame Street, Rescue Heroes and anything else I could stuff in a box to the Pythian Home (for the record, I let him keep his Thomas the Tank Engine stuff -- he says he wants to keep them for his children).

After school he wanted to talk about it.

I was expecting regret, or irritation that I made him give up so much of his stuff.

"Mrs. X (my guidance counselor) told us that doing things for other people would make us feel good inside. I've done lots of stuff for other people, and I never felt anything at all. But this time, I feel kind of tingly inside. It's kind of good, you know."

He started going through his room again when we got home, to see if there was anything else he wouldn't mind sharing with someone else.

Parental pride is kind of tingly inside, too.