It’s awkward enough to write from a guy’s perspective on Mother’s Day. That probably violates some ancient code and dooms me to a lifetime of ugly ties on Father’s Day. So I’ll start off by kissing up to my wife.
It’s awkward enough to write from a guy’s perspective on Mother’s Day. That probably violates some ancient code and dooms me to a lifetime of ugly ties on Father’s Day.
So I’ll start off by kissing up to my wife. Or, more appropriately, I’ll call her Sean’s mother.
One of her best traits is she’s organized. Had we two guys lived alone, the house would resemble millions of others where toys gradually creep into living spaces until, like a horror movie, the people are cornered with nowhere to go.
Thankfully Mommy is there, and it’s not a big issue. Every toy has a designated home, either in a bin or on a shelf. The bins are labeled so, at the end of the day, the toys all end up where they started.
In between, they get a real adventure.
As soon as he’s dressed, our 3-year-old asks for permission to bring some of his stuffed animals downstairs to play. Depending on his mood and how loyal he’s feeling that day, it could be as few as one or as many as three.
Lots of kids have unnatural attachments to stuffed critters. The young version of me clung to a beat-up pink mouse that once had to be retrieved from a mattress store 40 miles from home after he accidentally spent the night there. Dirt and time faded Mousie’s color to a grayish pink, restoring his masculinity so he could play wide receiver on the Animal Rose Bowl team I fielded each year.
For my son, it goes way beyond stuffed toys.
When it’s time to end a stint playing in the basement, he always asks to “bring something upstairs.” That’s a tough sell, because his first choice is usually a broom I once used to clean up mouse droppings and pretty much everything else is down there precisely because there was no room on the main floors.
When it’s time to leave the house, he asks to bring a toy in the car. Lately it has been dinosaurs, but cars, blocks or the same stuffed animals often share the back seat with him.
For the return trip, he likes to haul something back from wherever we’ve been. That’s how we inherit much of Grandma’s toy collection. It also explains why several plain-looking rocks show up on my desk the day after a trip to the park.
Because there’s never a good stopping point for a toddler who’s happily at play, those traveling toys apparently give him a chance to carry on that play into the next phase of the day. To us parents, it’s a harmless compromise to speed up the process.
“Sure, bring whatever you want, but do it NOW.”
Our savings aren’t in shape to travel to exotic locales, but T-rex, Clifford the Big Red Dog and an array of Matchbox cars have seen enough of the world to tell some amazing tales back in their toy bins. Or wherever they are at the moment.
• Reporter Mike Moore writes Daddy Talk. Mommy Talk is written by reporter Marci Laehr Tenuta. Their columns run on alternate weeks and can be found online at http://www.journaltimes.com/mom. Laehr Tenuta has three children, two boys and a girl. Moore has one son.
