The other day, Kendrick and I had dinner at our friend Erin's house (she of the awesome Pinterest and crafting blog and Peekskill-trip planning skills). She and her husband have an amazing midcentury buffet table in their dining room that they use to display various odds and ends that they've collected and/or made over the years, and when I spotted a tiny dome housing even tinier gold animals sitting on the buffet I was immediately transfixed. I had visions of them wandering through some obscure thrift store in some adorable middle-of-nowhere town and stumbling across priceless gilded tigers the size of thimbles that had once been the playthings of royal children during the Qing Dynasty, but that they had managed to score for five bucks.

Or something.

Five seconds later my son had whipped that glass dome off and plucked the animals off of their stand, and I was running towards him, with visions of him destroying some precious, irreplaceable artifact (and thereby destroying our newish friendship in the process). I snatched them out of his hands (--> tears), only to discover...