Our children are no different than most children about their toys. They have toys they love and toys that they think they to keep because they occupy space and consistency within their environment is paramount. In our efforts to de-clutter, we have come up with a list of things that Monk doesn't really play with. I have thought about just migrating the stuff out of the house when he is asleep, but being at that the age of which he notices just about everything, this might not be solution to have a copacetic household. He has become fond of the Toy Story movies and well since seeing the 3rd one, donating toys and throwing away broken ones is a wretched sin punishable by bouts of tantrums and sobbing. Just 2 things that Mr. Bacon Bringer Homer and I just don't cope very well with. Now please, we do not bow down to the mini-human in the house. It's quite the opposite. We don't respond at all except for telling him "we don't hear that voice" and "inappropriate behavior". I have even resulted in taking a video of him throwing the fit and playing it back to him later in the day. We talk about how ridiculous it is to act this or that way. Most times he obliges, but his genes are flowing with a tantamount of stubbornness; he totally gets it from Mr. Bacon Bringer Homer ;).
Good Bye Train Table...This is how our conversation went...
Mr. Bacon Bringer Homer: "Why aren't we doing this while he is asleep?"
Me: "He has to learn that as he grows up and new toys come into the house, old toys need to find a new home."
Mr. Bacon Bringer Homer: "This is so not going to bode well."
...I went up to the playroom
Monk: "ooohhh my train table... what are you doing Mommy?"
DUN DUNT DUN
Me: "Cleaning it up, so that we can get it out of the playroom."
Monk: ...the dreaded "Why?"
...immediately the theme song to Jaws starts playing in my head.
Me: "We have to make room for the toys you got for your birthday, so since you like to play with your trains on the floor, we are going to sell this."
...eyes bug out of his head and hands go on the hips
Monk: "No, MOMMY! You can't get rid of my train table. It's mine and no other little boy can have it! He can't use it. He can't have it."
Me: "Well Monk, we have a new train rug in the garage that we are going to put down instead."
...Monk promptly got into the table which I had taken the top off and began to stomp around.
I reiterated the fact that we had a "NEW" rug to use instead. Hoping that he did not put a hole in the table making it unsellable. I finally had to lift the stomping mini-human out, take him down to the garage and show him this "new" rug. So this "new" rug has actually been hiding in our house for well over a year and a half. Coming out for car play and going due to the cats liking it a little too much (apparently the rubber backing is an instant cat attracter for sniffing, scratching, and almost getting peed on. Since the we keep the playroom door closed, keep your fingers crossed no cat gets left in!). So, while I was in the garage with Monk getting this "new" rug, Mr. Bacon Bringer Homer carried it out. Monk carried the rug up to the playroom, I let him pick where he wanted it to go and then all was right in the world again. Whew, tantrum avoided. Rug now loved again. Do the tracks and trains come out to play on it? Nope, the rug is an Aircraft carrier today.
The train table is posted for sale and is awaiting it's new rightful owner! Horray, Queen's "We are the Champions" was playing in my head as I went to bed.
Consumerist Challenge: 0
Major space vampire: 0
Us:1
Good Bye Train Table...This is how our conversation went...
Mr. Bacon Bringer Homer: "Why aren't we doing this while he is asleep?"
Me: "He has to learn that as he grows up and new toys come into the house, old toys need to find a new home."
Mr. Bacon Bringer Homer: "This is so not going to bode well."
...I went up to the playroom
Monk: "ooohhh my train table... what are you doing Mommy?"
DUN DUNT DUN
Me: "Cleaning it up, so that we can get it out of the playroom."
Monk: ...the dreaded "Why?"
...immediately the theme song to Jaws starts playing in my head.
Me: "We have to make room for the toys you got for your birthday, so since you like to play with your trains on the floor, we are going to sell this."
...eyes bug out of his head and hands go on the hips
Monk: "No, MOMMY! You can't get rid of my train table. It's mine and no other little boy can have it! He can't use it. He can't have it."
Me: "Well Monk, we have a new train rug in the garage that we are going to put down instead."
...Monk promptly got into the table which I had taken the top off and began to stomp around.
I reiterated the fact that we had a "NEW" rug to use instead. Hoping that he did not put a hole in the table making it unsellable. I finally had to lift the stomping mini-human out, take him down to the garage and show him this "new" rug. So this "new" rug has actually been hiding in our house for well over a year and a half. Coming out for car play and going due to the cats liking it a little too much (apparently the rubber backing is an instant cat attracter for sniffing, scratching, and almost getting peed on. Since the we keep the playroom door closed, keep your fingers crossed no cat gets left in!). So, while I was in the garage with Monk getting this "new" rug, Mr. Bacon Bringer Homer carried it out. Monk carried the rug up to the playroom, I let him pick where he wanted it to go and then all was right in the world again. Whew, tantrum avoided. Rug now loved again. Do the tracks and trains come out to play on it? Nope, the rug is an Aircraft carrier today.
The train table is posted for sale and is awaiting it's new rightful owner! Horray, Queen's "We are the Champions" was playing in my head as I went to bed.
Consumerist Challenge: 0
Major space vampire: 0
Us:1
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