Some ideas don’t work out … like that time in college when I thought that by dressing up like Madonna for Halloween I would basically transform IN TO Madonna – instantly looking and singing exactly like her … #disappointment #allbad #getoffthestage.
The bottom line is that some things are great on paper, or on someone else’s blog, but they don’t actually work when put into practical use. I can honestly profess that toy rotations are NOT like that. Toy rotations are the holy grail of mom ideas. Thank you, Jesus for my toy rotation.
In my last blog, I told you all about toy rotations and promised that I would give you an update as soon as I had some concrete evidence of the idea’s outcome. Well, I’ve got that update. In a word: miraculous.
I went through the steps described in the post while my son was on a daddy date to the grocery store and when he returned I braced myself for his outrage. Certainly this boy, who is smart as a whip and equally dramatic, would notice that 9/10 of his toys were now … gone. I tensed up as he walked in to his playroom, over to his train table – which was now visible rather than buried under an avalanche of colored plastic and construction toys – and picked up his monster truck.
“Look, mommy!” he said, running the truck along the painted train track, “King Crunch can drive on the tracks now!”
I nodded and agreed, yep. King Crunch is a brand new man.
That’s right, people! King Crunch is delighted. He’s more than delighted. He’s jubilant. And, in addition to his newfound ability to play on train tracks, he can also buddy up to a dozen or so toys that were previously relegated to the bottom of the toy bin, lost and alone and collecting dust. Those toys are now rediscovered, full of life, and (the very best part of all) organized and easy to clean up.
The other five bins of toys await their day in the sun, which will come whenever I’m good and ready. Maybe when my son gets tired of playing with King Crunch and the lost boys. Or maybe when I have a free afternoon (never). We’ll see. Until then, I can bask in the clean, bright organization of the playroom and avoid using “bad guy words” when I step on Legos on my way to feed the lizard.
That, my friends is what I call BLISS.