Toys crowd every living space of my house, garage, and even car. My two children’s birthdays are within four days of each other and after one month of Christmas. All of the grandparents are divorced, so that means we have five celebrations for all three events, complete with aunts, uncles, cousins, and great-grandparents. Don’t worry about the math; all those parties add up to way too many toys.
My husband and I take preventive measures against this tidal wave of toys. We donate. We trash broken toys. We move them to the garage for outside toys and then they become trash. Lots and lots of toys out the door.
As my children get older, not all toys make it out the door. For instance, a wonderful friend of mine gave my son Ty a monster truck for Christmas. He broke a wheel off immediately, really within his first play session with it. My husband and I tried fixing it (and couldn’t) and threw it away (and Ty picked it out of the garbage).
I then considered my options:
1. Call my friend and get the receipt, or at least the store’s name. Then dig the packaging out of the recycling, tape the box back together, and situate the truck in what was sure to be a poorly reconstructed box. Then take it back for an exchange and haggle with store clerks while holding two kids who are super excited to be in a toy store and super tired of standing in line.
2. Dig the box out of the recycling, find out the brand name, and call/email them. Play phone/email tag.
3. Write a blog post about junky toys that break within five minutes of your kids playing with them, with a link back to the manufacture’s website. Tweet furiously.
Options one and two seem frustrating and I am really too nice for option three.
So now we have this broken monster truck that Ty is attached to and no real plan, except for our last option:
4. Sneak it out of the house and into the garbage when he is asleep.
We really wanted the monster truck out of the house. The kids have too many toys and they certainly don’t need a broken one. Monster trucks alone? Ty probably has a dozen of varying sizes. When he lines them up for them to enter the living room, or the racing arena, they stretch for two feet. He does not need this monster truck, so we worked to find another option.
We never found a suitable option, and as the months have passed since Christmas, I am glad. Out of all of his toys, he uses this broken monster truck with a flood of creativity.
The broken monster truck always has a different situation as to why it was hurt in the monster race. Sometimes the driver wrecked and other times a different truck’s driver was driving carelessly. One time, a police car had to stop the competition for his bulldozers and tractors to enter the arena and tow the three-wheeled truck to safety. Another time, he pulled our king sized bed’s brown comforter to the living room and made it a mud pit where the truck had a wreck, and yes, lost its wheel.
Ty has too many toys, toys that are meant to build creativity and wonder. Teach colors and shapes. Form him into a future leader and possibly president. Yet he uses this broken monster truck to stretch his imagination.
Out of all the toys I stress over tossing or donating, I gave the least worry to the one with perhaps the most potential.