In the Land of Boys and Toys....

{{{photo of my husband, my sons, my father, and Hayden and Porter's godfathers playing with an antique "toy" of my husband's....}}}

All kids (or most I know) have toys strewn on the floor somewhere in the house – I was no exception to this rule. I always remember my mom and dad yelling about stepping on Barbie shoes as a kid. I thought I’d avoided that landmark when I birthed two boys, assuring my house would be mainly Barbie free, and free from night time owwies while heading to the john. I never really got what the big deal was either….that is, until I stepped on my first lego structure.

Legos have a way of working their way into every facet in your life. They somehow manage to land in the dog dish, the tub, the couch, the kitchen sink, and yes, underfoot while stumbling to the bathroom in the wee small hours of the morning.

Now, I never claimed to be graceful in ANY way shape or form, and that’s in broad daylight. Then add in the 2-in-the-morning and no-contact-lens factors and you’re just looking for trouble.

Somehow, when the lego creations break free in their hurry to get out from under my feet, they seem to sprout razor blades, allowing them to hit nerves in the bottom of my foot I never knew I had. And the yelps, obscenities and dance moves I must be sporting across my living room might just wake the likes of Michael Jackson…or send Britney or Justin Timberlake calling… The neighbors might think we’re hosting the local PBR.

…and don’t even get me started on Hotwheels, Thomas toys, Pokemon or Bakugan. Paybacks are a bitch, right?

At the very least, I now know what all that yelling was about over stepping on the Barbie shoes as a kid…to my fellow friends who have boys – I know your pain. To my friends who have girls – good luck - because God knows…Barbie never wore Birkenstocks.