Two days ago I started to talk about how the heavy-duty emotional baggage of the recent move wasn’t in the house, as I had expected, but in many of the items that I found myself throwing away as I was forced to get brutal about what to keep and what to toss.
Another example was the kids’ toys.
There were a lot of decapitated dolls, broken trucks, and miscellaneous games pieces and bits with no indication that there was actually an entire game anywhere in sight. All of that got tossed immediately.
There were many children’s books, some of which got saved, most of which were in various stages of tatters and disintegration. The hardest to dump were some that I remember fondly but had gotten wet or moldy or someplace in the garage where critters used them for nesting material.
There were plenty of toddler and infant toys that were in perfectly good working order, but I couldn’t find any place that would take them for donations. Those plastic balls with the different shaped holes that you put the different shaped blocks in? No takers. The toy cash register? Nope. The wooden rack with the rows of spinning wooden tiles with pictures on them? Ditto.
Things like the wooden blocks had long since been relegated to “stuff for the grand kids (someday)” or “substitute doorstop” status. The nice four piece Christmas train still rolled along just fine, but there was no place for it to go except the trash bin.
I remember getting these cardboard blocks when the kids were all very small in a Christmas where the budget was tight. I ordered them online and they were delivered about two days before Christmas. I didn’t realize they had to be assembled – each one had to be punched out of the big cardboard sheet and then folded like a giant piece of origami. It took six or seven minutes to assemble each block and I had ordered the BIG package of something like 100+ blocks. You do the math. I was up until about 5:00 AM putting them all together and then getting rid of all of the evidence of assembly.
On the other hand, we used the crap out of those blocks, as you can see. Forts were made, walls were designed for destruction, supports were made for bridges of Hot Wheel tracks…
And in a house half the size of our old one, the kids all long grown and gone, the deadline from Hell looming to get out of the house…
If and when any grand kids show up, maybe I’ll order some new ones and stay up all night assembling them for the next generation.