The other day as I was helping my sister-in-law pack up her house (I don't recall which day this was), we found some unopened bubbles. These ended up on the counter as we continued to empty shelves. Then my nephew (who I'm going to call) Detritus came in and saw them.
(I should explain my choice of name. It's a literary reference. No, I don't think my nephew is a troll. But, he talks just like that character--every "th" sound comes out as a "d". And he is a five-year-old boy.)
Detritus loves bubbles. So, his mom gave them to him with the instruction that he was to play with them in the backyard. And off he went.
I'm not sure how much time passed, but it was long enough to get some packing done, when Blondie appeared in the house. She informed her mom that Detritus had spilled all of his bubbles.
My response: "Oh good. We don't have to pack them."