Boys Will Be Boys: Lord of the Rings meets Thomas the Train

Let me set the scene: There they are, chugging in a neat row across Nathan's floor, about 10-15 trains heading toward the middle of the room. Little did they know that it was bath time for teddy. Into the toy box teddy goes, and that is when the elephant comes out. "My elephant!" Nathan cries, and that is when the the trains get it. The train line is suddenly decimated by by what can only be called an "oliphaunt" by comparative size rampaging through the line scattering them across the Plains O' Nathan. Once the damage is done the scene is instantly forgotten and the stuffed elephant lies calmly on its side among the wreckage as Nathan moves on to other exploits.

At our house there is no peace if you are a toy. I sometimes find myself feeling sorry for them, a side effect of growing up in the Toy Story generation, setting them upright when they land at awkward angles or jumping to their rescue when they get stomped on by a raging three year old. But I just sit and watch as Lightning McQueen revs up and pushed Woody and RC the car off the coffee table into a pile of other toys and as a bear, a dog and a Mountie burst through the walls of Lincoln Log homes. I draw the line at crushing the Woody pez dispenser in the entertainment cabinet doors, and shoving lincoln logs into the vaccum but mostly out of a need to preserve the function of my home.

Sometimes it's enough to make you worry about what kind of a child you are raising but then I see Nathan sweetly tucking in Wembley and Woody with him when its time to sleep, and I see how he will search for the tiny skateboard as if it were the lost sheep, rejoicing when it is found. I know many a gentle man who started out with a toy pistol in one hand and a pretend whip in the other so maybe I should just accept that boys will be boys and hope that like the Velveteen Rabbit, these toys will someday receive their reward.