The cure for a sickness I didn’t know existed. The remedy for a scattered brain. The solution to saving time, and the answer to a peaceful home. Simplify.
I worried so that my boy wouldn’t be able to handle the idea of ridding ourselves of many of the toys deemed no longer fun or less than beautiful. I was concerned he would feel distraught at the consignment store when we dropped them off and show this behavior in a…. less than desirable way. None the less, we gathered up the toys, humming songs of cleaning and making up ones for consigning as we went along. My car was loaded to the brim and so we made the trek. Oh, this place is a mad house. A plastic jungle if you will. If the roof was blown off, I am sure you would be able to spot this place from outer space due to all the neon light up contraptions inside.
We piled our goods up tall beside their register and while I discussed the procedure with the owner, my boys played. All the while my stomach was turning. We had gone over and over again how he would feel saying good-bye to our belongings in advance. I had told stories of letting go, of thrifting things that no longer fit (thanks-boys), to empathize. We discussed how we would not be getting any new (to us) toys in exchange for such a drop off, and that instead of crying or yelling he must think of an alternative emotion to convey when exiting the overwhelmingly busy store.
“Ten more minutes,” I nervously announced wandering the book isle. “Five minutes,” I casually called over, the pace of breath quickening as I prepared for the evident disaster that would soon occur. I cautiously smiled at the owner and her employees as I said to my boys, “Ok, time to go.”
I held my breath as Miles said, “One more minute!”. I sighed when Rowan stiffened at me lifting him off of a little toy bike. Darn. All my preparations were in vain.
But then? Then, a little miracle occurred. When the one more minute was up (ok it was more like five) Miles put down his toys and said, “I am not going to cry. I am going to laugh!” and with that he walked out the front door. Just like that.
Thank you universe.
Rowan could have handled the situation a little better, but I didn’t mind. I had a smile plastered on my face as I buckled in my boys. I giggled to myself as I turned the key. I laughed out loud when backing out. And then I headed straight to our favorite spot in town.
Nothing like a frozen yogurt and a hearty bounce to get your mind clear too after a good old fashioned autumn toss. (That is what I am calling it at least.)
We pulled into the driveway and walked into a newly uncluttered house. Miles has not mentioned the infamous drop off. Not to reminisce about a toy gone, or one he wished we could have gained.
Somehow, it was simple.