Before every birthday or holiday, I am asked what the boys would like to receive. This year I’m beating you all to the punch and posting this.
Yesterday I got out of bed- MY bed- and stepped on a Lego, kicked a Hot Wheel, and tripped over a block all before I reached my bedroom door.
After I got past the baby gate -which had OBVIOUSLY not done its job- I collided with a xylophone, 3 balls, a dump truck, and a toy drum stick.
When I got to the boys’ room, I had to yell for Bug to wake up- “yell”, because I didn’t want to wade through the sea of toys that carpeted their bedroom floor. When it was apparent that no amount of hollering was going to wake up my sweet middle child, I inched my way through the toy Chernobyl toward his bed. Even taking care to only step on soft, fluffy items didn’t save my feet from being gouged by a Spongebob figure and more Legos.
Part me hoped that he would stub his toe on a Thomas the Train figure so that MAYBE he would realize the need for cleanliness, but as I watched him deftly maneuver his way through the maze like a professional ballerina, I knew it wouldn’t happen. This wasn’t his first dance in the ring- he’d long ago figured out where the land mines were.
After I left, I passed back by the dining room where a remote control car -sans remote- and an Optimus Prime mask sat waiting under the table. I also happened to notice more colorful blocks with that well known logo that had been pushed to the wall in a long line, as if waiting for their turn to be a part of a sculpture that would never come to be.
And a glance at the wine cabinet revealed that it now housed -not wine bottles- but crayons.
I really needed coffee at this point, but a look at the kitchen -which was APPARENTLY the “happening” meeting place for MORE Hot Wheels- persuaded me to wait a bit longer.
After the older boys left for school, I went to turn on some PBS for the Mini Master so I could finally make some coffee, but I couldn’t find the remote. I looked under the couch and found 3 more Hot Wheels. I looked in the laundry room and found a plush Woody doll. I looked near the office area and found 2 fake phones and a couple of plastic dinosaurs.
I finally found it, though. It was in the laundry basket in our room, along with “Creepy Cat”, 2 ‘Little People’ animals, and another car, all covered by clean clothes.
After the boys got home, I demanded they clean. I had just spent a good couple of days straightening up, and they destroyed it in 1, so this time THEY were cleaning. Their lives -and my sanity- depended on it. So they did. They did a pretty good job of it, too.
But last night, when I went to tuck them in, I waded through a fresh sea of toys and stepped on the remote for that remote control car I’d seen earlier. I put up the baby gate to the bathroom and saw a multitude of bath toys everywhere.
And everywhere I went, Legos created a path, like a trail of plastic bread crumbs, marking my path to freedom.
Now, I’m sure many of you would read that and say,”Well, kids need toys and they OBVIOUSLY make use of them,” but I feel I must point out some crucial info:
- Nicholas was the Lego and Hot Wheel culprit, and he wasn’t playing with them, as I later found out; he was using them as projectiles to bomb Stever the cat with.
- And neither of the older boys could find their shoes earlier on in the day (Nicholas likes to wear everyone’s shoes around the house so we can play the fun game of ‘Where are they?’), so the boys had torn all the toys BACK out to search for their much needed footwear.
To top it all off, once home, after finishing up with their chores and schoolwork and what not, both had claimed they were “bored”. They’re both grounded from video games currently for unrelated reasons, so I told them,”You have a million toys- go play.” Did they? No. I later found them making paper airplanes while the Mini Master walked around with his brother’s underwear on his head, growling.
So, the moral of my little story: they do not need toys, games, blocks, Legos, crayons, etc. My feet and sanity cannot take it anymore.
Don’t want to show up empty handed? Get them printer paper, or -apparently- underwear. Please.
Maybe that won’t be the gift that has them shrieking from excitement, but I guarantee you, a week from the day, the rest of the toys will be strewn about, broken, missing parts, maybe never even having been played with, and there my boys will be.
Sitting among the chaos.
With paper airplanes.
And underwear on their heads.