A while back, Shaq was on a cereal box and the kids ate 5 or so boxes during his reign. Each time, they cut him out and hid him. I am not really sure exactly why, but over time his presence waned as he was found, rehidden, slipped behind a bookshelf or dresser, ended up wet or damaged in some way and now, there is a single Shaq SOMEWHERE in the house. He was last seen in the Chinese paper lantern near Chandler's door. No one remembers rehiding him.
To make up for the dearth of Shaq heads, a small metal cutout of the Terminator (also, curiously enough, just his head) has come into play and it turns up from time to time. Wedged between books on the shelf, in the freezer, over the front door, under a pillow on the papasan. It's more durable and so gets more abuse.
I wonder if these are things the kids will remember as adults, or if the summer we spent hiding heads as a family will fade into the background. Maybe they will mumble about it in old age, a nearly incoherent string of "Shaquille's head is in the cheese dip bowl in upper cupboard" as their grandchildren try to puzzle out what they are talking about and are forced to rethink their relationship with PopPop or Nonnie.