They All Have Names

I need some help with a problem I've had for the last couple months. I'm a little embarrassed to admit it but... I have a large trash bag (as in contractor size) of stuffed animals I cannot throw away.

I can't. They have names.

These are stuffed animals the boys have voluntarily decided to toss. When there were more animals per square inch of bed than boy, I suggested a thinning of the herd. Surprisingly, the boys were fine with it.

I'm not.

In my upstairs hallway, sits an enormous bag of no longer loved, plush, cute little- and some not so little- former friends. A friend of mine once told me a story about how he, in response to his son being afraid of the dark, had arranged his sons stuffed animals to be "on guard." I loved the idea and did the same with my boys.

Not only once loved, but also once fierce protectors of all that goes bump in the night.

I can't donate them. No one will take them because they pose a health risk.

What do I do? It's not as if the boys don't have plenty- and I mean plenty- of others they have decided to keep. You might think I'm kidding but I'm not. I honestly cannot throw these away.

Maybe I should have Jeanine do it when I'm not here. Oddly, the woman who cannot part with her band jacket from college or tee shirt from high school- neither of which have fit for years- chuckles at me when I describe my angst.

I keep coming back to the same thing. They have names. I can't tie the top and heave it on the sidewalk for the trash guys.

What to do?