Toys 'R' Us

There is nothing like a sibling row to start the day and I fear I still do not have the skills, energy or resolve to handle this particular one in the best way. It all centers around toys, toys and some more toys. Due to all this Christmas (2017) (not) good tidings they bring to them and not their kins from both sides of the family to our two boys. One toy in particular always seems to be the topic of the hour. Cars. Big cars, small cars, metal and
plastic cars. Racing cars, fire and construction trucks. However, my two sons have developed a bit of a thing for them and has even traded them with fellow kids while at church!
Normally son number two (#2) tends to play with them most during the school holiday break or at church on Sundays. However, the plastic cars don’t survive his “unique” ability to dismantle wheels in particular.

Son number one (#1) is more careful and less aggressive with toys. However, there followed a short speech by me about selflessness (a trait genetically inherited from daddy😉)  and that “sharing is caring” which often does not tend to go down very well with the preschooler age group. With a response like “Aaaahayeyeye” (What did the fox say?) which I figured basically translates: “It’s my toys and he’s not having it,” said son #1. So, my current storage solution is to hide them in the laundry room, upper parts of their now play/study room wardrobe and under the stairs, mainly because this all happens from as early as between 6:30am and 7:00am which will cause them to be late for getting ready for school along with the daily protest regime against hygiene and diet, in particular brushing their teeth’s and refusing to eat their (yummy I might add) breakfast.

As my husband is currently the main bread winner of our home,  also protests that he refuses to buy any extra toy boxes or storage units for the pile of toys (he contributed to, yet complains about himself puff). Thus, deciding (temporarily) to keep the toys out of sight, out of mind (right) in cardboard boxes that we get when bulk buying fruits, until after school hours. However, son #2 spots one of them while our hired cleaner came to clean the house and all hell broke loose. “Put the toys back NOW,” I ordered son number two. Only son #2 is fairly feisty, as the youngest of two children would be. And son #1 know’s it. So, son #1 says the phrase that causes son #2 to charge son #1…“stopppp it!” This gets son #2 fired up to charge towards his big brother like an angry bull at the “Running of the Bull” festival or like the “Billy Goat Gruff” charging towards the troll and sending him off into the sea to cross the bridge for greener pastures. Time was ticking. I envisaged having to take only son #2 to get contraceptive implants as our babysitter bailed out on us (I wonder why?) Something which could scar him for life and would not help much when the gynecologist inevitably told me to try harder to relax whilst holding up a big ol' needle and scalp knife to my face. I decided to just make a visit with son #2 anyway and deal with the repercussions later – As feisty, loving and sharing as son #2 is (ironically due to my genetically inherited traits of my side of the family) is he’s dad's favorite”, I have already been in talks with my husband, who firstly suggested I should tie my tubes, at which the gynecologist replied "its too early and you're both relatively young." (child bearing age) Son #2 was only about 15 months at the time. So, sticking not one stick implant into my upper forearm like after I had my my first son that lasted three years, but two stick implants as its how Swazi's do. Now due to the side effects of irregular menstruation, weight gain (which my husband really dislikes) and feeling nausea, my husband has changed his mind about me having contraception. Wonderful! I'll just go and get my arm slaughtered like a piece of meat at the butchers. The things we women do for love (and money). :/
*Mum on the  Toys 'r' us slaughter belt is Andrea Obeng-Appiah*