When I was a little girl each and every year for Christmas my grandparents would get me a beautiful porcelain doll, complete with a big frilly dress, a display stand and a certificate of authenticity. And each and year, after they left from visiting us I would proceed to take that pretty dolly and play with her, carry her around with me, rip her clothes off, chop off her hair and usually end up smashing her fragile porcelain body to bits.
I played with my toys and I played hard when I was growing up, usually right up until something I did caused whatever toy I was currently enamoured with to break apart or bust at the seems. It's just the kind of little girl I was. I wasn't exactly what you would call a sweet child who played nicely. That's not to say that I didn't play though, because I did. I just thought that my Barbie Dolls were more fun as zombies, complete with missing limbs and shaved heads.
My husband on the other hand was a polar opposite child. He played with his toys all nice like and (scoffs) actually put them away, with all of their pieces intact, when he was done with them. In fact we was so anal about his childhood possessions that most of them were so pristine his mother kept them all and my children have them to play with today.
Needless to say, my kids don't take after their dad in that regard.
I'm pretty sure that there are more broken toys than non-broken ones in my house. The Monopoly pieces are mixed in with the Hot Wheels, and a few of the beloved stuffed animals around here have had their appendages sewn back on a time or two. Our playroom floor is covered with random crap more often than it's bare and I can't even begin to count how many times I've stepped on a Lego or two and screamed (and maybe busted out a few choice words) in pain.
My boys take after me. But I don't want to admit it, because admitting it would be admitting that I was a pretty awful child. And there is no way that I'm owning up to that one!
So instead, as I'm scooping up broken toys by the arm full and mentally calculating just how much money went down the drain on them, I blame it on other things. Toys today just aren't made as good as they were when I was little. Metal trucks are now made out of plastic. Things are being recalled left and right. And because we live in a video game era the general quality of anything actually tangible stinks. Oh and I have two boys, and really, everyone knows that boys are rougher on toys than girls are.
One thing is for sure though, I'm really tired of all of the broken toys. (Especially after stepping on one of those blasted Lego's first thing this morning!)