A Million Little Pieces

No, this entry is not really about the mostly fictitious autobiography that made the headlines a few years back. Actually, I think the title REALLY is more appropriate for the autobiography of your average mother because 1,000,000 little pieces is what we end up picking up off the floor each and every day.

Yes, for some reason toy manufacturers seem to delight in making toys that have about 5 bazillion parts, and the older the child, the smaller the parts. So, I spend a healthy portion of each day picking up said parts off the floor, fishing them out of the couch, and removing them from under the fridge. And, yes, I always "make" the kids help. The problem is, of course, that MAKING a mess is hugely more fun than picking up a mess. And, making children pick up these toys is almost more work than picking up the darned things yourself. I have had to, more than one time, resort to the "vacuum threat" (as in, pick up all this S*** or I'll suck it all up in the vacuum) BUT, as things happen, I usually end up with a pick up job at the end of the day anyway.

For some reason, this "gathering of pieces" thing seems to be a female trait cause my husband can blissfully step over these parts and walk on by without a second thought. And, his method of "cleaning up" is to pick up everything and throw it all jumbled together in a box. This, of course, drives me INSANE because throwing the parts all mixed together in a box is not the same thing at all as actually putting them away. Putting Them Away means you have to go find the box, open the box, and place the items BACK in the box. And, for some reason, I always feel compelled to do this. Even though the child might have about 1000 rectangular blue legos, I simply can't bring myself to toss the one blue lego that somehow lodged behind the fridge no matter how dusty and dirt encrusted.

The worst part of this is that EACH of my children went through this preschool/toddler stage where they enjoyed stuffing the small parts under and into things. My third child is in that stage right now, and I am regularly fishing huge numbers of objects out from under the couch, under the television, and beneath the fridge. This stage is often accompanied by the inexplicable desire to "feed" the VHS player. A friend of mine once fished out two army men, a playing card, two legos, and half a dozen pennies when her VCR ground to a halt one afternoon. Toddlers also treat the house as ONE huge shape sorter, meaning that they walk around with objects trying to see where they might possibly fit. And, yes, although I appreciate this as a sign that the little booger's brains are click clacking around, the thought is no consolation when you are fishing your oldest son's favorite toy out of the toilet.

Anyway, back to the one million pieces: I think someone should design these toys with mothers in mind. I mean, I LOVE legos and K'nex and Lincoln Logs. They are marvelous, open ended, educational toys. BUT, they are also FULL of, you guessed it, one million little pieces that end up everywhere. Maybe the designers could put little homing devices in the toys so they all "jump" back in their boxes once the play time is over. Or, maybe someone could design one of those little RHOOMBA robots that can selectively suck up certain toys and spit them back in the box.

Maybe I could make such a thing, and then make a million little dollars and HIRE someone to do all this picking up for me. Yeah, that is a nice fantasy. In the meantime I'll be writing my autobiography. I intend to entitle it: One Million Little Legos.