One Day I'll Learn

You know all those annoying little toys that come in kids' meals, goodie bags or from machines at arcades? All that cheap, horrible stuff? Well, it piles up after awhile, you know? And what am I supposed to do? Just let all that crap accumulate until we're overcome by neopets, monster trucks, Chicken Little figurines and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? I tell you, I can't take it.

So every few months or so, when the boys are at school, I make a sweep through their rooms and through the various and sundry boxes of junk that are around and get rid of whatever seems to me that they haven't played with in awhile.

And no matter how long a toy has sat idle, unloved, and un-played-with in a drawer, it never fails that right after I throw something away, and I mean right after, someone goes looking for it and all hell breaks loose because, of course, they can't find it.

Case in point: Today was trash day. I did the Annoying Unused Toy Sweep on Wednesday and everything went out in the trash today. At 3:30pm, I picked up Finn and his friend, Jack, from school. Jack was coming over to play. As they ran to the car, I could see something green cluctched in Jack's little paw.

Me: "Um, what have you got there, Jack?"

Jack: "It's an Inja Turtle!"

Finn: "Yeah, and we're going to play Inja Turtles this afternoon!"

Much excitement and discussion on the way home about how Finn would go up to his room, get his Inja Turtle, which came in a kids meal about a year ago, and they would play.

Oh dear Lord. Finn's Inja Turtle went out in the trash this morning.

We got home and Finn ran straight up the stairs yelling, "I'm going to get my Inja Turtle!"

He hadn't touched that freaking thing for months on end and then the day, THE DAY!, I throw it away, he's looking for it? What are the odds here?

Of course, he couldn't find the Inja because it's on its way to the landfill in Wolcott. Fortunately, I was able to turn them into "real" Inja Turtles by tying bandanas around their heads, and I never had to confess my sins of illegal Inja dumping. But that was a close call.

Which reminds me of other similar incidents that are much more public and embarassing. It usually involves being at a restaurant and one of two things happening:

1. Your child gets up from his chair briefly and in a very loud voice says: "Mommy, do NOT eat my food while I'm gone!"
2. Your child gets up from his chair insisting he is finished. You eyeball the leftover cheeseburger and fries, or nuggets and fries. Should you or shouldn't you? Of course you shouldn't, but you do. Then, just seconds after that last cold fry has disappeared down your gullet, your child reappears: "Where's my lunch?" And despite your protestations that your child insisted he was done so you ate the leftovers, you still feel like a heel. Especially when people at surrounding tables hear. So sometimes you go back and buy a second lunch. And eat the rest of it, too, because they weren't really that hungry to begin with.


A totally unrelated funny comment:

Finn: "What's a turtle dove?"

Me: "A bird."

Finn: "No. It's a bird with a shell."

Me: "Of course. How could I be so silly?"