Is there anything that hurts more then stepping on Legos, spiky toy dinosaurs or Barbie shoes? I cannot tell you how many times I throw the empty threat around of, “Pick up these toys or I’ll throw them out!”
The kids know I’m bluffing. The attempts at clean up are directly related to my tone and the volume of my voice. Me telling the kids to pick up, to them means just make a path, yelling means pick up most of the toys. If the neighbors can hear me yell, they had better pick everything up. If there’s shrieking involved (and I never shriek, I’m just too dignified and ladylike for that) even Max will stop what he’s doing and help the kids pick up the toys.
I’ve not just stepped on toys, but tripped over many toys. I’ve tripped over Sesame Street (the toy fold out village, not the show), shiny red convertible Barbie cars and colorful toy ray guns. I even fell down some stairs after tripping over a line of army guys and their tanks that were holding an imaginary enemy line. The medieval castles I tripped over one night as I rushed to close windows left me with a huge yellow and purple bruises that took weeks to heal.
My floors are an obstacle course of toys to negotiate. They seem to be waiting to ambush me when I’m carrying a full clothes basket, or when I’m talking on the phone. I imagine even after the kids grow up and move away, I will still find a rouge toy alien or lego, just waiting for the chance to take me down.
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