Let me unravel for you a chilling tale. Long after all my precious prodigy have fallen fast asleep, my husband and I fill laundry baskets with toys from our overflowing living room toy box. In the late hours of the night (usually 9 pm) we use all the strength we can muster to haul the heaping baskets to the dank dark basement. Slowly we descend each creaky basement stair trying not to let any toys escape our grasp. As we step into the dark abyss we notice the mine field from toy hauls past. Promptly we flip on the lights and step over all the obstacles that the unfinished basement has to offer. Working our way to the play corner, we quickly dump out more toys than 3 little girls should ever have. This terrifying section in the bowels of the house is filled with toys too big to keep upstairs and anything else we can sneak down. My husband and I step over a litter of trinkets that our kids have lost interest in, and quickly run to the safety of our newly toy free living room.
Relaxing into our comfy couch with a deep sigh, we turn on some late night Netflix to relax before ascending the stairs to the bedroom. All of a sudden, I hear my husband let out a scream of terror. Slowly out of the corner of my eye I see that his worst fears have come true. The small living room toy box that was empty only moments earlier is once again overflowing. All of our efforts have been in vain. Try as we might the toys have made their way back up to the living room and once again the lid of the cramped box is unable to close. I echo his scream of horror and bury my face into the strong arms of my handsome husband. Clearly the toys have legs and have clawed their way out of the basement prison we left them in only moments earlier. The toys are reproducing at a massive rate and soon there will be no room for human occupants in this house. My husband and I find comfort in each other's embrace while we wait for our certain doom. If you find this letter next to our mangled corpses please know that we died because of the toys. Please know that our children are to blame and my husband and I fought the good fight til the end.
Twice a year I clean out my girls toy boxes. I fill giant trash bags full of toys that are broken, super gross, or missing pieces. Every time that I do it I am shocked that I am still able to fill more trash bags with toys. Why do my kids have so many toys? Where are all these toys coming from? Why do my kids love playing with all of these many many many toys?
Unfortunately the answer is that too many people love my little ladies. Grammie, Pa, Grandpa, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins all love my little devils to pieces. This means that they love to give them ALL the things. Every time they get a new stuffed animal and give that animal a hug with the biggest smile on their face, I know they will get more stuffed animals. Every time they get dress up stuff and pose while asking if they look beautiful, I know they will get more dress up stuff. Every time they scream with delight over getting something that they have been begging for, I know they will get more whatever they ask for. If loving my kids means that you get joy when giving them more trinkets and baubles I will deal with the aftermath.
I understand that seeing the joy from one of my little cuties is like a crack to the people who love them. Someday when they are older we will not have as many toys because my kids will not find as much joy in them. Until that day comes my sweet husband and I will continue to carry loads of toys to the basement and use trash bags to clean out toy boxes. So if you love my kids you can buy them whatever makes you happy and I will try not to get murdered. Except slime. Slime is illegal in my house and I will put on a Jason Hockey Mask and stab any person who gives it to my children. Happy Halloween!!
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