War on Toys
Don’t expect to bump Into me at a Toy Store in the near future (or ever again).
My house is always a mess.
That’s a lie. It’s clean from approximately 7:15pm – 8:03am and that’s it.
It used to be ok, because my mail man was a chipper old fellow who had come to expect nothing more from me, but I think he might have retired. I feel like the new lady looks at me in astonishment when at 11:30 I open the door, still wearing pajamas and no bra in a house that looks like it’s been ransacked by drunken teenagers having a rager in a toy-shop.
What’s even more awkward is she always turns up just as Indi has gone to sleep, making me seem like the crazy lady who puts on elaborate shows for her 5 1/2 month old.
She probably doesn’t even give it a second thought, but it’s a lot more hilarious if I imagine she does.
Anyway, we’ve got a lot of junk. I mean toys. And you know what’s ridiculous? I went to throw some out the other day, and I’m attached to them. Maybe I’ve got issues from a childhood of being the eldest and my toys forcefully been given as hand-me-downs, but I can’t part with them. The house is packed to the gunnels with a growing population of stuffed toys that will soon overtake us and I’ve put down my armor, I’m defenseless in the face of a fluffy-stuffed-pink-elephant (with big glittery eyes) (it’s really cute, and soft, I’ve never felt anything this soft in my life!).
We went shopping yesterday, bless my daughter, she always needs to prepare herself, either with costume or toy for us to leave the house. This was for Officeworks on Sunday.
She raced to the kitchen where I assumed she had another load of toys on the floor. She didn’t. She was heading for the pantry, where she grabbed a tin of Wiggles Spaghetti that she then carried around every shop for the rest of the morning. Harmless you’d think?
I’m not a physicist but the velocity of a tin of spaghetti, paired with the height of a trolley seat and the weight of a can drop on a tiny toe ain’t pretty. (V + H + W = ouch)?
It hurt so much and it was right at the register where there were too many people around for me to express how I truly felt in that moment. So I just smiled and said ‘ooo haha spag-a-hetttii’ or something ridiculous.
As I limped off towards the car, with Mila at this point screaming because her trolley time quota had expired, and Indi clutching to her poor tin of spag that endured such a great fall I realised that my two year old had just had a great morning with that tinned food. Just like some mornings she does with a bucket, or an empty milk bottle or egg carton.
We just bought her a tablet for her second birthday (not the medicinal kind for the technophobes), a proper handheld computer. Go on, make your judgments. But do you know what? we’ve used it thrice. What a waste of money.
I just realised I wrote a whole post that essentially was based on my love hate relationship with my children’s toys. I need to get out more. I really hope I’m not the only one who has this issue?