Christmas in June: another "I'll never" shot to hell

I have long bandied about the idea that I'll NEVER fill my house and my yard with that brightly colored plastic Little Tykes shit that seems to be rotting under a film of dust and pine needles in every backyard in suburbia. My objections are many--the aesthetics, the lack of durability and subsequent recycling, the ubiquity, etc. etc. Sure, I knew I'd incorporate a few big plastic toys here and there, but I was plannig on doing so thoughtfully and placing them among the wooden kitchen set from Land of Nod that I so covet or the handmade swingset I imagined Nate and I constructing outside.

In the great big book of things I thought I'd never do, yesterday I loaded up my car with all sorts of plastic goodies for inside and out that my boss is getting rid of before his big move to Ohio. We got a slide, a few things with wheels, all sorts of toys that sing and ring and pop and hop and all that stuff. I was sheepish as I pulled into my driveway, thinking Nate might lose his shit as seeing so much plastic, but as we were pulling it out of the car and Clementine was shrieking in delight, we couldn't deny what a good idea it all is. OK, maybe not ALL of it, but she was so damn happy pushing the little cart around and riding on a little sit-down scooter that my heart melted. Seriously, I had to restrain myself from going to Targt to buy even more. There we sat on the driveway, these little drab blobs of flesh amid a sea of primary plastic colors, and Clementine could hardly handle so much fun. In fact, she had her first big tears and all tempet tantrum over toys when Nate pulled her off of one of the wheelie things to take her inside to eat. Oh what joy.

In my alternative baby book, this is really only #94 of the "I'll nevers" I've broken, right behind I'll never feed my kid jarred baby food and I'll never have a babysitter I haven't known for at least a year. Stay tuned for more...