Saving the Toys - One Suitcase at a Time

Yesterday morning started out like any other – the boys waking up too dang early and demanding their chocolate “muck” (milk) and cartoons.  Some days they bask around the living room, lazily starting their day and letting me hold them on my lap for awhile.  Other mornings (like yesterday) they immediately go into what I call “combat” mode and have initiated a game of seek and destroy hide n’ seek or a version of wrestling that inevitably ends with someone crying real tears. 

I was super tired and not feeling so great when I woke up, so I sat down at the kitchen table with messy hair, a steaming cup of coffee and the Sunday paper after they ventured off in search of something more exciting.  I started to peruse a few retail ads, and then -

BAM!

CRASH!

WHACK!

THUD!

I of course get up to see what is going on in the playroom down the hall, and am greeted with this visual:

In a matter of a mere 10 minutes, they had managed to “rearrange” the (somewhat) organized space into total chaos.  Every toy had been pulled from the bins.  Books were scattered.  They had even included pillows and blankets from an adjacent room.  All this by 8:00 a.m.  Who ARE these creatures?? 

I stood there for a second, them looking at me, me looking at the mess, them looking at me some more.

And I smiled and calmly said, “Well, thanks guys, this is the PERFECT opportunity to get rid of some toys!  Let me go get the trash bags!”

As I walk off, I hear shouts of “NO MOM!!” and “It’s okay, we’re picking it all up now, Mom.”  “Mom?”  “Mom?”

I walked back to the kitchen and told the hubby to gear up for a cleanin’ out, because we needed to make more room for new Christmas toys anyway, and honestly, there are lots of toys in there that never get played with that could totally make a less fortunate child’s day.

Lest you think we actually purchased most of these toys and/or that my kids are slightly spoiled, I will clarify here that we most certainly did not and that yes, they are.  With three small boys comes three birthdays a year, and when you figure they each get around 10 toys per birthday, well, that’s 30 toys.  Add in 10-15 toys per child for Christmas, and, well, you get the point.   We have a large family.  It accumulates.

I finished my coffee and two powdered donuts (really good fuel, those things) and grabbed a box of huge black trash bags in the pantry.

I shuffle back to the playroom (still in pajamas and slippers) and re-announce the most terrible plan they have ever heard.  As I’m speaking, I look down and notice that G-man is furiously stuffing multiple items into his little blue suitcase that has literally been covered in Lego stickers, so much so that you can’t tell it’s actually a Toy Story 3 suitcase.  I mean, he went to town on this thing one day, using up an entire 50 page book of Lego stickers.  Somewhere under there, Buzz and Woody were smiling, but maybe not anymore.

I said, “What are you doing?”

He said, “What’s it look like?? I’m packing.”

I said, “Are you going somewhere today?”

He said, “HELLO, I’m saving my toys.”

I said, “From what?”

He scowled, “FROM YOU!”

With that, he attempted to close up the suitcase, but it was so full of crap toys that he couldn’t zip it up.  So, in a panic, he closed it up best he could and clumsily pulled it down the hall to his room, probably giving himself a hernia in the process.

I commenced to de-trashing the playroom by, oddly enough, trashing items.  We ended up with three or four full, heavy bags – most to donate. 

Later on I walked down to G-man’s room to investigate what he had hoarded from the playroom cleansing, and he immediately informed me there was “an animal rescue center” in his closet that I was not to disturb, that the animals were scared of me and that I should under no circumstances open his closet door. 

I took a quick peek later that afternoon, and realized he had mainly rescued stuffed animals, a plastic leopard and an assortment of “dudes" (action figures).  What can I say, the boy has a soft spot for fuzzy bears and little wilderness creatures. 

A soft spot and bad packing skills.