We are very lucky to have an amazing thrift store up the street. Totally amazing: the size of a warehouse, with everything from knickknacks to books to clothes and furniture, and all reasonably priced, and with the most uncool cool name: Unique. It's dangerous for me to go there. But (luckily or unluckily, I don't know), it's one of the few places that I can only go alone. Ben likes things from thrift stores, but isn't much into going to them. And taking kiddos would just be too much-- especially in a place where you have to wade through stuff to find the treasures.
This weekend I ventured out in hopes of getting something for Zosia's birthday-- a trike, specifically. But after an hour of carefully looking through thousands of items, wading through poop (not normally part of the experience... it seems that some toddler just had an accident in the toy aisle), and getting help pulling things down from very tall shelves, here are a few of the things I came up with:
A bag of smooth stones:
A wooden truck:
A pair of rain boots, which, incidentally, have not come off since I brought them home: