Magnet

The only bit of color I remember in my grandparent's house, besides the clown nose the stuffed deer head would occasionally wear, was my grandmother's magnet collection. I remember when I was in middle school that the few dozen she had had on the freezer door suddenly mutated into several hundred. They filled two sides of the fridge, all different images imaginable. My grandfather hung a piece of sheet metal on the wall of their kitchen so she would have more space to continue her collecting. We would play a game where I would have to scour the magnets and find a new one she had just acquired. My favorite ones were shaped like different colored Crayolas.
I'm not sure what happened to them after she died. I like to imagine they're all clumped together in boxes somewhere, slightly affecting the Earth's gravitational pull.

Brontosaurus

So the Brontosaurus has gone through something of an identity crisis. Apparently, I missed the memo that went around explaining that the Brontosaurus was no longer named Brontosaurus. It is now to be referred to as an Apatosaurus. I say, after all this time, why bother? We'll still call it a brontosaurus. It's not like they're around to step in and correct us. And the new name is Latin for "deceptive lizard." Doesn't that say something right there? This whole name change thing could be a hoax. Maybe they used to be the Madonnas of the Jurassic period, reinventing themselves every few years.
All I know is that they were my favorite of the dinosaur toys to play with because you could wrap your little fist around their long necks and carry them that way. Like a toddler caveman with a club.
Eff science, let's call a sauropod a sauropod. Apatosaurus sounds like the bastard cousin of a platypus. Or some kind of punctuation. I know, let's give it a new name entirely. Henceforth, we shall call the Brontosaurus...Bruce. All hail Bruce.