I have this very vivid memory of myself while playing in the house where I grew up. The same house my parents still live in actually.
I am tromping down the green, shag-carpeted hallway in a dress, on the way to my bedroom at the end of the line. All the way pushing my toy grocery cart, “baby” in the front, food in the back. Once I make it to my room I get the baby out and hold her close and pat her on the back, comforting her pretend cries. She soothes and I sit down to “cook” the food. That’s the memory. I cannot remember the rest.
Although sometimes I am pretty sure I have lived it.
Wait. I know I have.
I often wonder what my children’s memories will be of their toys and play time and things they did as a child. Will they recall the Thomas the Tank Engine trains and the LEGOs and the baby dolls and princesses that litter my living room floor on the daily? Will they be upset to know that we
their dad got rid of a certain toy instead of letting them pass it on to their children? Will they fondly be reminded of a book we read over and over and over again as they come across it some day in the future, in a second-hand bookstore? Will they read it to their own child?
What I do know is that my kids can still just play with the best of them when they really set their mind to it
instead of minecraft or WiiU.
And I can also tell you that those trains will be passed on to my grand kids because oh yeah, that is some CASH money spent on those babies right there!
Hands off Timothy!
What do your kids love to play with?