If you find copper, aluminum, or brass, you can take it to a fella on Tryon Street (incidentally the same spot a double murder occurred last night, but anyhoo...) who exchanges this particular dumpster booty for some cash. The Ropkos have enjoyed this newfound source of income. Groceries, Lupie's take-out, a frivilous, guilt-free cup of Starbucks coffee. The fun is endless.
But the latest, and in the kid's opinion, most important, dumpster find of all came in the form of a blue, cheeky Ropko household icon. Thomas the Train. And not just any Thomas the Train. A ride-on Thomas the Train.
It's actually an item already inhabiting our backyard; inherited from our dear old neighbors who moved to Dallas last spring. But as of late, duplicating items, particularly ones that are beloved by both children, is never an unwelcome idea. Our faded Thomas push/ride-on toy has been argued and fought over to the point of nearly being chucked in the garbage by this mommy. There, I frequently imagined myself saying, while tossing Thomas in our green recycling bin. After all, it is plastic. I'll throw this bleeping thing in the garbage. That'll end that insanity.
But daddy saved the day and found a rather pristine looking train of Sodor Island in a dumpster, and rather than adding to the clogged Never-Neverland of one of Charlotte's landfills, he brought him home to his cheering and clapping and woo-hooing children.
This has less to do with dumpster treats and more to do with enjoying Heath's stance in this photo.
Ah, our new Thomas. One man's trash is another man's ride-on/push toy that provides hours of backyard entertainment.
Back and forth she goes, when she'll stop? Whenever her big brother decides it's his turn and knocks her out of the way. Because, well, this one IS newer than the old one, and therefore, better.
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