The Little Things

Mom and Dad have always said, “Toys are really more for parents than for children.”  What they mean is that children don’t need expensive toys to have fun; it’s parents who think buttons, gadgets, and electronic wonders will bring happiness to their kids.  Thinking back on my own childhood, that was certainly true.  I grew up enjoying rich, imaginative adventures in houses I made out of pine straw in our back yard.  Given a rake, I’d spend hours constructing the layout for a mansion or an ancient castle, complete with back passageways and secret staircases.  We also had a rope swing in our back yard–a thick rope tied and knoted on the extended limb of an old oak tree that was covered with moss.  On that swing, we played Tarzan and Superheroes and strengthened the muscles in our arms climbing the rope to touch the knot at the very top.  Once, when my brothers found rivals in new neighbors next door, they climbed that rope swing each in turn as a show of strength.:)

I remember how patient Mom was the summer Tommy and I started our wizard club and made dozens of potions in the kitchen out of random mixtures of juices, soft drinks, and other absurd ingredients.  We were very specific about the name and purpose of each new concoction, and we dared each other to taste them.

I remember a time when Dad found a refrigerator box somewhere (maybe we’d gotten a new refrigerator, I don’t remember) and cut out a door and a few windows for me.  I colored on that box until it became my own special getaway house right in the middle of our living room, and I imagined a million dramas in that cardboard before it became too torn and beaten to be used any longer.

When I look back on my childhood, I remember getting dirty and golden over hours of running and imagining outside with my brothers and friends.  I remember riding bicycles around the neighborhood, reading books with my parents, the Bobbie and Joey stories Dad created on a whim as we drifted off to sleep.  Piles of discarded adding machine tape  in front of my dad’s office desk became swords and light sabers in our hands.  I can’t count the number of duels we had with those rolled, pushed out columns of paper.  I remember family nights eating Little Caesar’s pizza in the living room while we watched movies together.  I have so many cherished memories, but there are only a few purchased toys that remain special as I look back.

Kevin’s memories of childhood are similar.  He tells stories about playing hide-and-seek with Brian, who’d watched one too many Road Runner cartoons and thought he could suck it all in and be invisible behind the tiniest tree in the backyard.  Kevin remembers finding big, thick sticks and dragging them around as he imagined himself as superheroes and magnificent atheletes.  He talks about hours spent playing basketball with Brian, until Brian got upset that he wasn’t winning and their Mom called out, “Kevin, let Brian win some too!”  She was such a softie.

When we talk about growing up, it usually isn’t the toys that spark our memories and make us smile.  So, why am I amazed when the things that my kids seem to enjoy the most are the little things?

Several days ago, Zoe commented that the shaving cream in our bathroom looked like fun.  I smiled at this, watching her fingers twitch with the desire to push the button on the top of the can.  “You know what?” I said.  “When we go to the store, I’ll get you some shaving cream you can play with in the bath tub.”

So, on shopping day, I picked up a couple of 99 cent cans of Barbasol for the kids.  You’d have thought I’d bought them the moon.  They were so excited about that shaving cream that there aren’t enough words to describe their enthusiasm.  The next morning in the bathtub, the girls imagined feeding clouds to dolphins as they squirted pillars of white foam into their palms.  For a little while, they were grown ups shaving their legs and faces.  Then they were princesses with white hair and kids with soft serve icecream on their fingers.  I realized that a few dollars had bought my girls miles of memories.

Adam was no different.  He got in after the girls and immediately gestured toward one of the Barbasol cans on the side of the tub.  He squirted some on his palm and mashed it through his fingers like other-wordly goop.  Then, he held the can high above the water and watched pillars of shaving cream form on the surface of the bath water.  He threw his favorite bath tub pirates into the floating cream and squirted even more, until the bathwater was stark white and no longer clear at all.  For him, the shaving cream represented the potential for dozens of delicious sensory experiences.

Why am I so surprised that some of the best fun my kids find together is with inexpensive things like shaving cream and balloons?  They can thrill each other for hours blowing up balloons and releasing them, giggling while the balloons sail around the room.  When I tie up the ends of the balloons, they find great joy in throwing them around the room and down the stairs.  They talk, laugh, share, imagine, hug, and squeal.  These simple activites are the great equalizer, providing play that all three of them find equally enjoyable.  Suddenly, they are all communicating.  They are making memories.

Kevin thinks we should start gifting them with refrigerator boxes, balloons, inexpensive balls, paper dolls, shaving cream, and bubbles on their birthdays.  He wisely commented that since these things bring them so much joy, we should save money that we spend on more expensive toys and use it for family trips or as savings for college.  You know, I’m beginning to think he’s exactly right.  On Monday, I’m going to call Sears and see if they can save some appliance boxes for me.  Over the weekend, who knows?  We might even set up a cardboard city in our living room, or at least, a three-house neighborhood.:)