We buy paper by the ream and can't keep up with him. We collect his drawings into stacks and piles that eventually disappear, simply because there's no way we can save them all. He told my mother one day, "I would prefer that my mom display my artwork, but she throws it away." Poor baby - I hope he doesn't get a complex.
I'm sure you think I'm exaggerating. But I'm not, really. Here's a snapshot of what the floor in our den looks like every night:
This isn't even all of it - just the part that I happened to catch in the frame. And I should mention that all these pages have drawings on the front AND back.