It's official, I've gone crazy.

In my cedar chest I have 3 gallon size baggies.  Each one is designated to hold keepsakes of the baby years for each one of my children.  They hold very similar things...the hospital shirt and hat they were put in right after birth, the little wrist and foot bracelets from the hospital, crocheted shoes from their blessing day, etc. Pretty typical stuff, right?  Surprisingly, each baggie gets bigger.  Poor Emma.  Hers has the bare minimum.  Ali's is a little bit fatter but Canyons?  It's bulging.  BULGING.  I know this time around is the last time around and I am determined to hang onto as much of the fleeting baby stage as I can.  So yes, I have gone a little excessive in what I keep as memorabilia.  And apparently my Emma girl has noticed.  Today I watched as she leaned over something on the carpet, gasped and bent over to quickly retrieve it.  She cupped her hands around it like it was the a rarest of treasures and walked slowly and carefully over to me so as not to drop it.  As she reached me she demanded I put it in Canyon's baby box and opened up her hands to show me the said treasure. I laughed out loud to see a bloody bandaid that had fallen off of Canyon's thigh from his shots.  How could I not keep it?  Really?  It is now nestled right up next to his wispy baby curls I chopped off and several other things I shan't mention for fear of being ridiculed.  Now, if I could only figure out how to save his roley little thighs and soft little baby cheeks. Sigh.