There's irony here . . . .

So my son the genius is off three hours away at this whoop-de-doo program because he's, like, real smart? And I'm, like, all braggy and proud and stuff? So it is definitely ironic, in a not-that-funny, sucking the life out of me sort of way, that he's been there for three days and just realized that he left a big honking pile of "necessary" crap behind:

I know that some of the crap in this pile of crap really is necessary, but you do see the flip flops on the top, right? And the Bing Crosby hat? Totally necessary. And the "Kum-Ba-Yah" guitar. And he needs it all. Today.

Dude. You're killing me.