Toy Day is Over

On the surface, “Toy Day” sounds like a sweet concept. Twice a week, the kids get to bring a toy from home to share with their class. No weapons, no monstrosities (I had to veto a pop-up Thomas the Train playhouse this morning). Other than that, the rules are pretty open.

G, for his part, has created an additional rule: You must never (ever!) bring the same toy twice. Can you imagine the snickering? The disgusted looks? The whispering of, “Didn’t he bring that Backyardigans guitar last week?!”

As my son gets older, status has become more of an issue amongst his peers. And Toy Day has become THE DAY to improve that status. I mean, what is cooler than being the kid who brought The. Best. Toy. – am I right?

Every Toy Day morning is stressful, as G calculatingly hunts down the perfect item, the one that will set him apart from the heard. Usually, this process takes about 10 minutes, but it can take up to 30 minutes. Today, however, it took an HOUR.

It didn’t help that I was already about an hour late to work to begin with and not in any mood to double that. No amount of prodding, cajoling, suggesting, or threatening would speed this process up. In fact, it seemed to spitefully slow him down. I was desperate, so I enlisted the Ex to help. Nothing. Finally, I got the now angry preschooler into the car by promising him that there was bound to be something really awesome buried under the mess in the backseat. When we were loaded into the car, it was quickly discovered that all that lay buried under the mess was more mess.

G was not pleased. “You are going in the garbage can,” he informed me.

He proceeded to pout and inform me of other places I could expect to go during the ride to school. He did this as we walked to his class (read: his teacher and I dragged him), and as he waved (still pouting) as I rushed off.

This has led me to the conclusion that Toy Day is a very bad idea. I might talk to his teacher about canceling it altogether; however, I’d make her sign a non-disclosure first, forbidding her from ever letting G know that I was the evil mastermind behind it. If not, I don’t think I’d ever get out of that can.

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