It’s true. Hulk Hogan is often at my feet while I shower. The water beads off his small rubber body and flows down the same drain that I use. We’re not alone in that shower either. The following is a list of toys hanging out in our bathtub at any given time:
Dinosaurs: at least two, but not more than 4. The T-Rex is a constant member of tbe shower club but the others are exchanged in and out depending on the day.
A plastic burger patty and possibly plastic lettuce. These are high priority items and we are often breaking up fights over them when the kids bathe together. We’ve discovered the best way to distract one child is to offer them the plastic chicken wing.
Small rubber Octopi, 2. They both squirt water but only 1 has a top hat and monacle. The other one looks slightly more realistic. That’s not to say it looks anything even close to a real octopus, it just looks less ridiculous than the first. Along with the the group of small animals that squirt water: a frog (not to scale) and a hippo, (not even close to scale). Also, a shitty water shooter.
A baby. One that is made to be in the bath. How do I know this? Because its accessories include a raft. It also has a small summer themed cup that hurts like hell when you step on it.
Other things that hurt like hell: Legos. There always seems to be an assortment laying in wait. Many towers have been built in the bathtub. They’re highest points peak out of the bubbles like skyscrapers out from thick morning fog.
You could be thinking, “why don’t you just take the toys out?”
Well my eager questioner, we do. That is to say, most of the time we don’t. It’s just easier to leave the toys in the tub and let them dry out. Then, by the time they are dry we’ve forgotten all about them and need to shower or bathe a child or 2. The only time they are removed completely from the tub is when one of us whom is responsible for raising the children has an absolute freak out because there life is being overtaken by toys. Toys that we actively had a role in aquiring!
The slow over growth of toys doesn’t stop at the tub either. They are spread out around the entire house. At any given moment in my house you are likely to trip on a play thing and crash into the wall and die!
There are dinasaurs chilling out in pots, baby dolls on pantry shelves, Peppa Pig figures stalking us from the counter tops! (And BTDubs, I’m really upset at the fact that the conglomerate mega Corp that produces Peppa Pig toys Americanized their family car. They removed a perfectly good learning opportunity, not to mention a ton of bad dad jokes by moving the goddamn stearing wheel to the left side of the car! Now when my kids go to England, they’re going to wonder why the cars being driven by pigs there have wheels on the right side and the cars being driven by pigs in America have a stearing wheel on the left. This is just another attempt from the American government to corrupt the minds of our children and take away perfectly good dad jokes). Even after hours and hours of painful lifting of toys into the kids toy box, Alaina and I still manage to sit on a plastic ice cream cone. Why? Because no matter how hard we try, our space is not our own.
Not with 2 toddlers. They’re comparable to aliens, attempting to terraform our living room so they can inhabit it. Every time they put back 2 toys, 3 more come out. The only solace we have is right before bed. Before bed all the toys that are strewn around the living room have to be put back in the toy box in their bedroom. Even after that though, there’s still toys in odd places (see above).
I could pick them up. Alaina could pick them up. We could get up and care more about putting away some toys rather than spending our last moments of the day being exhausted together. But, they’re just toys. They’re not hurting anybody. Not until the next shower at least.
The struggle is real my friends.
The struggle is real.