An honest take on life and parenthood

Toys, toys, and more toys

on May 8, 2012

Pooh: Mommy, where’s my guitar?

Me: You don’t have a guitar.

Pooh: Why not?

Me, exasperated: Because you have every other toy on the planet!

Now, to be fair to the child, she loves music, and loves pretending that she is in a band. The guitar is one instrument that she does not have in her toy arsenal. Indulgent mama that I am, I even bought her a drum. (Yes, I know).

But this is really all about toys. For anyone who is a parent, it becomes quickly obvious that managing toy clutter is a constant and ongoing battle. From the time that they are old enough to play with colored rings or plastic keys, kids begin to accumulate toys. And your home begins to slowly look more and more like Romper Room.

Before I had my daughter, I always used to say that my home would always look like a home where kids lived, not a kid’s house where grownups happened to reside. I would see the homes of other people, strewn with toys and living spaces adulterated by bright plastic toys, and I would think, “Not me. Ever.”

Well, joke was on me. You should see my house.

No matter what I do to manage it, the toys multiply in some sort of dark magic way. My daughter is an only child and much indulged by everyone who shares blood with her. Not to mention people who don’t. And so, I have resigned myself to living in a home where a child lives and a grownup happens to reside.

And you know what? It’s really not that bad.

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