Several years ago, when we lived in Fredericton, Erin made one of her best-ever purchases: 3 big bags of buckwheat husks. At the time, I wondered out loud why anyone would need so much of something I'd never heard of before.
Erin: It'll be useful. Just wait.
So I waited. And every time we moved (from Fredericton to Leamington, from Leamington to Iqaluit, from Iqaluit to Saint John, from Saint John to Sydney...), I kept my wondering to myself.
But, as promised, the husks have proven to be very useful. Erin has stuffed almost every soft toy she's ever made with it. It's light and sturdy, and the animals keep their shape forever without getting mooshy or smelly.
This morning while I was at work, Erin had a couple of mums over with their kids. It was blissful mayhem, by all accounts. Both of the visiting kids are just one-year old, and both of their mums worried that they'd be into our stuff, making a mess. Jane ended up being the real culprit.
Right before everyone arrived, Erin walked upstairs to get something. She entered the room where she keeps her craft supplies and found Jane standing in the middle of the room. Her one arm was wrapped around the last-remaining bag of buckwheat husks. The tie that (formerly) kept it shut had come loose. Husks slowly poured on the floor, scattering to the four corners of the room.
Jane: What this stuff, Mum? It messy.