“What is all of this?” I asked our 8-year-old.

He, largely ignoring me and my pesky oversight, continued to glean interesting items from our rocky driveway which he then dropped into the lid of a shoe box. Our driveway is steep and requires a routine amount of fill. The fill is, well, full of extraneous items that eventually find their way to the top layer.

“Nothing Daddy. Just tools and stuff.”

Ah.

I peered over his shoulder, continuing my unwanted dialogue.

“Where did you find the snake skin?”

Without turning to look at me our son pointed behind us, in the general direction of our house. This was, to be sure, unsettling but then again it could have been worse. He could have found the actual snake.

Our conversation went no further and he eventually deposited his winnings on a counter in the house — warning all to leave it alone. This was couched as a politically correct proviso to all, but everyone knew he was talking about his brother.

A few additions have been made since the initial foraging. I don’t know if he’s really going to turn the  piece of copper tubing that’s flattened at one end into some sort of spear. I’m also fuzzy on when we’ll  need the used cap to a gallon jug of milk. Since I’m not allowed to touch any of it I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.