Toothbrushes, Underwear and Socks, Oh My!

I'm convinced that toys are created to ruin the hopes and dreams of parents.  And when I say "convinced", what I really mean is that I just thought of that, and it sounds right.  Then I wrote it, and convinced myself.  Must be true. 

In my trip from my bedroom to the couch that I'm sitting on, I stumbled on no less than 3 toys, briefly saw my life flash before my eyes when I got my shoelace caught on the baby gate, and stepped on the arm of a (likely very depressed) superman figure who has been dismembered.  This wonderful piece of plastic was perfectly positioned so that it felt like I was being stabbed.  I don't like that feeling. 

What's more, toys teach kids to be never-ending bottomless pits of want.  Once they have it, they don't want it anymore.  What they have accumulates and slowly takes over the home.  Of our modest home with 5 human souls, 3 kitty souls and 1 dog soul, at least 500 sq ft is devoted to toys.

I know what you are thinking.  Throw it out/donate it/figure it out and stop whining.  Welcome to one of the many debates of the Garlands.  It goes something like this:

Chris: Let's get a garbage bag and toss it all out.
Jess:  Dude.  Haven't you ever seen Toy Story?
Chris: You have got to be kidding me.
Jess: Sadly, I'm not.  What if that dismembered Superman is really sad?
Chris: He isn't.
Jess: What if?
Chris: He isn't.
Jess: Well what if a kid somewhere out there really wants to have this toy?
Chris: He doesn't.  Nobody wants to play with a toy that has no arms, no legs and no head. 
Jess: But I have a bag full of heads, bodies, legs and arms.  I could put them back together.
Chris: No.  That would take forever. 
Jess: Toy Story, honey.  Toy Story. 
Chris: Seriously?
Jess:  And garbage dumps full of plastic.  And polar bears. 
Chis:  deep sigh. Alright.
Jess:  As soon as (fill in the task here) is done, I'm gonna do it. 

Twelve months later...nothing.  Nada.  The days blur together, the kids scream in stereo, I spend most of the time drinking coffee and dreaming of Maui.  Dismembered Batman lives on. 

We celebrated Christmas with my mom this week.  (Hi Mom!)  She was dead set on bringing practical gifts for the boys, and brought an outfit for each kid, 10 pairs of matching socks each, underwear, several toothbrushes and toothpaste for the kids.  As a parent, I was overjoyed, if not giddy.  However, I watched my boys closely...ready to pounce on the first child to show dissatisfaction.  She was warned by others that the kids would be deeply disappointed. 

Never happened.  Gifts are gifts.

My boys have obsessed over their toothbrushes.  They love their clothes.  They danced around all morning in their new underwear.  One thing is for sure.  Not a single one of those underwear will be dismembered and forgotten.  Weird to consider, but true nonetheless. 

Maybe my number one assumption should be that children (especially preschoolers) enjoy excitement.  You get excited about broccoli?  Eyes light up.  You get excited about cake?  Eyes light up.  You try to make them happy with what they identify as making them happy?  You follow the trail of never ending distraction.  You get excited about underwear and toothbrushes?  Suddenly, nothing exists on this world that surpasses the desire and delight with toothbrushes.

Chase actually slept with his new toothbrush.  I'm not kidding.

Dear Toys R Us.  I want my thousands of dollars over the course of 4 years back.  I should have gone outside, grabbed a couple of rocks and called them "Awesome 1" and "Awesome 2".