Letting Go

How hard is it to let go of things?
I decided recently that it was time to get rid of some of our four-year-old granddaughter’s older toys and books and, well, things that aren’t really toys but that have been essential to her play in the past - like empty boxes. I thought that last weekend would be a good time to do so.
On the trip home from picking her up, I planted the seeds.
“You are getting to be a such a big girl.”
She, proudly: “Yes, I am.”
“You’re getting taller. And you are learning how to do so many new things.”
She, again, still proudly: “Yes, I am.”
“I think you are getting too old and too big for some of your toys. I was thinking this weekend we could go through them, and you could help me pick some things to give away to littler kids.”
She, a little dubiously now: “Okay.”
Pause. Long pause.
She: “But not my panda. I love my panda. I’m not too big for my panda.”
“No, no, not your panda. We won’t give away anything you still play with or love.”
She, only slightly reassured: “And not my baby animal book. I really like my baby animal book.”
“No, not any of the books you still like to look at or have me read to you. We won’t give away anything you still play with or love.”
I changed the subject and our talk turned to other things. But the first thing she did when we got home was go upstairs and start grabbing toys which she lugged down to the kitchen to show me, saying things like “I really love my Dora doll” or “This is my FAVORITE puzzle” or “Will you read this book to me tonight?”
And this continued, on and off, all weekend. I put a small, empty box by the back door and told her she could put whatever she wanted me to give away in the box. I assured her repeatedly that I would not throw away anything that was important to her. And she continued to haul belongings downstairs so she could declare her love for them before she took them back up.
She did put one book in the box. But it was a book my mother had sent our son when he was born, so I quietly took it out. At the end of the weekend, the box was empty.