I have a sharpener from the wildlife park that collects all the shavings into a little hinged box and when you open it they explode out in a little shower of wooden bits.

I have an ammonite, which is an old snail fossil. It's in a little plastic bag that feels funny between my fingers. Dusty.

I have a pair of plastic shoes that walk when you wind them up. All on their own. You can see the gears on the inside that make them turn. But no batteries. There's nowhere for batteries to go.

I have a disposable camera that does have batteries. But no screen. No way to see what I've taken a picture of until I give the film to Donald and he gets it developed.

I have all of these things and I don't want any of them. They are all just for being good. For not breaking stuff. For just being normal. I don't want a single one.