Today, I tackled the Boy’s room.
In no particular order I want to point out that the Boy is not:
He doesn’t need another walkie talkie, ‘Magic’ ear, magnifying glass, or set of night vision glasses.
An AUTO MECHANIC.
He has over 100 Matchbox/ Hotwheels cars. Not only are they a bitch to step on, but they wind up in the darnedest places. He had no underwear in his drawer (they were in the closet?!?!?) and no socks (under his NEW bed – how and why?) but his cars were neatly lined up in there. By size and color.
A NASCAR DRIVER.
No more tracks. As in race and train. Midnight tried to escape the maze of tracks by jumping out the window. Me hanging out in the flurries calling to him does not a pretty sight make.
ONE football, soccer ball, basketball, tennis racket will be sufficient.
Second to the toy cars are Legos and Kinex. Talk about lasting pain. Try NOT to curse or snap out when those find your feet.
Why all the art kits? Bubbles! was one to do random wall graffiti, so that’s not an issue. The issue is that he paints EVERYTHING. His trains, the tracks, the bookcase, the radio, a sign for his sister to KEEP OUT (as if).
A LIBRARIAN WITH A DETECTIVE FOCUS. (Hence the spy gear)
I never discourage books. I still spend many hours in a faraway land, learning about new and exotic things, and just expanding my mind. However, why the lean towards books with dogs and mice as detectives? Jack Russell (where we got the name Fat Mittens), Hank the Cow dog and Geronimo Stilton have got to go. The Teen knows most of these stories by heart since the Boy listens to the CD and follows along in his copy at night.
I’m not trying to block his creativity. I love that he has so many areas to express himself.
It’s just TOO MUCH.
WAY TOO MUCH.
You know it’s bad when the cats don’t even want to go into his room.
My sister will either love me or hate me, but the library is getting a big donation today.