Toys Were Not Us

The wee grandkids came to visit the other weekend. I am convinced that these young ones have magical powers that raise spirits and energy levels. They are so full of innocence and mischief all at the same time, and so easy to entertain. The seven year old boy enjoyed some old toys that his father played with; the toddler was very happy playing with a little box I placed on his hand and the baby liked the game peek-a-boo. All in all, there was a lot of laughter - most of it coming from me.

I have noticed that children have far too many toys these days. I was once in a house where three little girls live and was shocked when I saw their playroom. The room was so full of toys that there was hardly any room to play. I am sure when adults bought these toys for the children, they did so with the best of intentions. It seems wasteful because the children usually choose one or two favorites, and leave the others to gather dust.

When my first son was a toddler, a friend who was a kindergarten teacher told me that it was important to buy toys that would have the child participating, not just observing. Children love to create things, solve problems and try to figure out how things work. I tried to stick to that rule but have to admit I bought stuff cause it was just plain cute or cuddly.

As a small child I did not have a playroom, much less one filled with toys. For the most part, my playroom was the yard. It was there that I dug small holes in the ground which I made into little wells. I used spools for pulleys and yarn for rope. There was no shortage of twigs and these were used to construct upper structure. I cannot remember what I would have used for a pail, perhaps a thimble. The spools were also used to make little vehicles of some sort. Luckily for us kids, my mother did a lot of sewing so empty spools were plentiful. If the youngest brother was not busy playing with the older boys, he would play with me. I am sure it was from him that I learned how to build and design a small well. We had a well in the yard from which we drew water and in which we stored our perishable items in the summer time. Ours always looked very similar.

I was five years old when I received my first and only childhood doll. Our school board always gave gifts to all the children in the local families. Along with a small gift, one received a bag of mixed nuts in their shells, peanuts, some assorted hard candy (the twirly peppermints were everyone`s favorite!) and an apple and a mandarin orange. This all came in a paper bag. It was an exciting time for all children, rich and poor. This particular year, I also got a doll. From what I can remember, it was an ordinary doll, but a doll nonetheless. I remember being very happy.

I do not know how long this doll remained intact, but my next memory of this doll was its head flying through the air as my brothers played catch with it. To give them some credit, they let me the `Pig in the Middle` as I tried to catch the head. I was so thrilled to included in this game that I did not mind that my doll was disassembled. This game took place in our big room which had a pot bellied stove in the middle. During the course of the game the doll`s head hit the chimney pipes so often it was all smudged with soot. That is the memory that I have of my first doll and only doll.

Many years later when I was working in a bank, I shared this story with my work friends. They were not sure that I didn`t just make up this sad tale, but that Christmas they all chipped in and bought me my second doll. Needless to say, I cried.