The Opposite of Toyland, or My Basement is a Recycling Plant

In honour of Mother’s Day, posted on the wall beside Jake’s classroom is a list of all the children’s names and their response to the question, what makes moms special? I was happy to see Jake’s response, she gives me lots of hugs, as opposed to some of the children who said she buys me lots of toys. Whew. As a matter of fact I do not buy the children lots of toys, or really any toys, with the exception of birthdays and Christmas, but of course they HAVE lots of toys. I don’t know why we even have toys when we have cardboard boxes.

We just had some new furniture delivered: a new table and chairs, and a hutch, and it all came in cardboard boxes. Is this normal? I have no idea. In addition to three huge boxes which have turned into a spaceship, a clubhouse, and an airplane, Mark gathered together a large amount of packing material for his special project: a battle ship/ trap/ gigantic weapon. In other words, our basement looks like a recycling plant. I am torn between being happy that the kids are playing creatively in such an old-fashioned childhood way and also being somewhat distressed at the extreme visual chaos this has caused.

Speaking of chaos, before we sold our old table, my husband disassembled it for storage and transport.

Surfing!

I have to admit I felt completely overwhelmed when the furniture was delivered and the house was littered with giant heavy boxes and the kids were bouncing off the walls with excitement and the dog was howling outside at the commotion. I was surprised to see the table was delivered in a large, very flat box, so I asked the delivery man if the legs were inside. He replied that they were, and I would have to attach the legs myself. “Like, with a screwdriver?” I said inanely, to which he smiled and suggested perhaps I could get someone male to help me. I’m doing wonders for feminism over here, people. Wonders.


Jake also really enjoys playing with eggplants. Bizarrely, he calls them his little doggies. I was slicing one up and he was shocked. No! Don’t eat my doggie!

Comments

  1. OK Dear
    This is really great post about boy house…………………………
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  2. Subspace Beacon says

    I WISH our computer desk came in a box. Instead it came wrapped in 10 meters of bubble wrap. By hour three of the pop-athon I was wearing earplugs.

    And why is there no photo of the new furniture!?

  3. Mrs.Mayhem says

    Oh my, that is hilarious. I cracked up with the last photo and your son telling you “don’t eat my doggie.” Too funny!

    Our sectional and ottoman came in boxes, much to the joy of my children. We had one in our office for at least 6 weeks before my husband removed it.

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