It has to happen every once in a while… there just comes a point where you cannot wade through any more toys, bits of toys, broken toys, neglected toys- you know what I’m talking about.
Tonight I opened up a can of you-know-what on our playroom. My unsuspecting children lie sleeping peacefully upstairs, and I go through their things like judo-mama. I’m brutal and unforgiving. Heaven help any toy that gets in my way when I do this- I toss it. Tonight I tossed the train table. Yes, I did. They never play with it- any of you who unwittingly shelled out the cash for one of these babies after watching your baby LOVE the TT at the store, you know what I mean. In a store, it is the magic, must have, will get years of play out of it toy. You bring the dastardly thing home, they never play trains again. And those Thomas trains are just about worth a college education in cash. Yowza they’re expensive. I’m holding onto the trains- figuring they might still have some play value, but the table and tracks- gone. I said I was merciless.
They might notice the table is gone. That is a big “might” though. It’s amazing- I can toss or donate an entire black giganormous trash bag of toys, and they never even ask where anything went. They don’t notice. You know what they will do in the morning? Cries of joy will ring out at all the toys they “haven’t seen in forever!”- never noticing the gaps in their treasures.
My kids, like most of us, have too much stuff. Too many toys. Too much indulgence of things. What they need is more time outside, chasing butterflies and looking at clouds. Things that don’t require a trip to The Giraffe. The best things in life are free, and all that. It’s true anyway.
Now if only there was a Napalm fairy to come into my kitchen as I sleep away upstairs. Ah, the dreams of a mama…