Since we've moved to the 'burbs and now have storage space, the Grandmas got a little excited at Christmas. And by little, I mean a lot. They were probably singing carols, squeaking out excited farts as they raced down the aisles of Toys R Us.
*Side Note* I have a theory that the reason you smell farts so often in shopping malls/grocery stores is because people get excited and their sphincters relax.
"Ohh, these jeans are on SALE!" *Pffffffttttt*
Anyway, back to the toys... Our basement is a disaster, and I haven't even begun to try to clean up the toys when we are done playing with them. A) We don't have any storage systems set up yet (we're still only semi unpacked) and B) Why bother? I'm f*cking exhasted (my son still isn't sleeping. Quelle surprise!!) and we'll just be down there in another 30 minutes to play with them again. It's the same reason I only SOMETIMES make my bed. Yep. I'm 30 years old with the mind-set of a 15-year-old sometimes. I realize this.
Moving along, having all of these new toys is a bit overwhelming. There are just SO MANY OF THEM! So I took the advice of a Mom I met while doing interviews for my latest YMC video, and I divided the toys into two bins. This way I can "rotate" the toys and they always seem new. Since children have the memory of a goldfish (sorta), they'll be excited all over again "Wooo! Look, a new toy!" "
"No, it's not new. I've just been hiding it. But I tricked you, didn't I? Aren't I so clever?" *Self High-Five*
In addition to the overwhelming quantity of toys, I'm also a little overwhelmed with all of their lights, sounds, and functions. One minute Cole will be standing at his activity table, pressing buttons—making it sing, and then from across the room, his Octopus toy yells "Hey! Where are you? Peekaboo!" and then he'll crawl over to the Octopus. No sooner is he over playing with that toy, then his Zebra scooter lights up and says "Come along with me! Let's go for a ride!" And sings a song that annoyingly DOESN'T RHYME!
*Another Side Note*: At this age, I want all of my son's songs to RHYME. When it's a short song with only four lines, it's the least you can do. Make it catchy and cute. Every time the Zebra is done it's song, I feel cheated. Left hanging on the edge. I'm waiting for the rhyme that never comes. Sigh.
Whatever happened to the good ol' toys? Like pet rocks? And yo-yos? Back in my day (I realize I now sound like an 80-year-old) all I had was a doll who shat herself. Hm, on second thought—maybe I prefer the singing Zebra...