What's Mine Is Mine

And what's yours is mine, too.

That would be DH's way of thinking of things.

Since all of the toys I have gotten for DD are possessed by little mythical beings that peck out eyes and bite off fingers (or at the very least are dangerous choking hazards), DH had to bring along a new toy for DD to play with while he was visiting this week.

So they played with DD's new toy.

As he was leaving, he picked up the toy and took it with him.

In an ever-so-perplexed manner, I inquired as to why he would be taking DD's toy with him.

"Because I bought it," he said.

This would be the most bizarre ritual of gift-giving I have ever encountered. Giving a child a toy, then taking it back when he left?

My therapist (yes, I go to a therapist because I am "nuts", "insane", and "crazy"), prefers to view this behavior as an extreme form of manipulation and control.

Surprisingly, DH thinks my therapist is as crazy as I am.

Despite being completely unbalanced and incapable of rational thought, I have instituted a new rule that any toy brought into DD's home for DD shall stay in DD's home until such time as I see fit to sell it at a garage sale, donate it to Goodwill, or bury it under a tree in the back yard.