I Need a Noisy Toy Apocalypse

I Need a Noisy Toy Apocalypse

It’s time for parenting realness. My kids are asleep which is usually a time when I tackle a boundless list of desirable things with no relation to childrearing. A recently used example: slothing. This is the word I use to describe my devotion to the couch after stay-at-home parenting two kids all day.

Today is different. Today I actually want to pick up toys while my kids snooze. Why would I ever want to do that? So I can complete a household purge I’ve been daydreaming about for two years.

This is how the daydream goes: I pick up a garbage bag, pick up my children’s toys one by one, and complete a simple test in order to determine whether or not each toy can safely continue to reside in our home. What's the test? If it makes any noise it fails. I mean any noise.

It doesn’t have to be the soul-sucking sound of a VTech safari animal; even a rain maker, put in the wrong (my toddler’s) hands, can turn into one of the most offensive ruckuses you’ve ever heard.

If there’s a mildly detectible sound upon lifting the toy it will be shoved mercilessly into a trash bag to symbolically suffocate to death.

If it’s anything VTech, ending up in a trash bag is an underwhelming purgatory. Additionally, this means of disposal poses a safety risk because VTech toys are the type of unforgiving beasts that will continue to squawk inside a trash bag en route to the can; a rage inducing situation so delicate that only an inpatient psych unit would have the necessary tools to handle it.

Therefore VTech toys need a completely separate disposal method, similar to batteries or other hazardous chemicals. Perhaps instead of ice cream trucks someone should drive around a toy demolishing truck so I can actually watch a VTech toy get pulverized right in front of my eyes. It’s a valid biz, someone please think about it.

Nothing less than a total VTech toy massacre can right the wrong of the psychological torture these toys inflict on unsuspecting parents everyday.

So why did I allow my house to get littered with audible grenades?

First, I was never that parent who tried to filter every incoming toy. "Oh it was painted in China? Not in our house." I accepted free toys with open arms because three triathlons wouldn’t tire out my child so I need an arsenal of toys.

Second, all parents become masochists when faced with a desperate situation. Sometimes when I’m “functioning” on four hours of sleep and I have to chose between my child evacuating a Target with his spine-tingling screaming or buying a noisy truck book; I buy the noisy truck book that now monopolizes my nightmares.

So back to my daydream.

Once every culpable toy is bundled up cozily in a trash bag. I haul them out and stare rapturously at the overstuffed trash bin. On trash day I watch by the window, much like a child awaiting Santa on Christmas Eve, so I can complete a triumphal dance while each bag is compacted by the metal jaws of a garbage truck.

Tonight may be the night that I make my dreams become a reality.

However, even if I successfully purge every noisy toy from my house, exposure to one elsewhere may cripple me. The deafening symphony of rowdy toys has become a source of trauma that is triggered by even the dullest squeaking of a stuffed animal’s noise box.

Stay sane!

There's more where this came from...don't forget to type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

Filed under: Layettes

Tags: Noisy toys, parenting, Rage, Sanity, VTech

Leave a comment