I love toys. There are toy people and there are game people in this world, and their minds and temperaments are not the same. I am most definitely a toy person. I resonate strongly with Pixar people in this regard. And now that my kids are older and I have no one but myself to buy toys for, it’s all I can do to keep from buying way more than I can ever justify—even as a children’s librarian.
It’s just that toys can be so brilliant: little gems of human wit and invention that you can pick up and do something with. How cool is that!?! I love paintings, but let’s face it—you can’t play with a painting except in your mind. And books? I’m all about books, but I do have a special fondness for truly imaginative toy books. (For example, Amanda Leslie’s Play Kitten Play. 10 Animal Fingerwiggles.)
I suspect that the toy urge is kin to the “making-faces-at-babies” urge (another impulse I regularly indulge). You do something silly with your face and you get a reaction—not unlike “What happens if I push this button?” really. Simple and gratifying.
So let’s take a break. I’ll stop talking and you stop reading and let’s all go find something cool to play with.
I keep crayons in my desk at work, and a little bendy man holds the eraser for my (toy) chalkboard – which, I might add, seems to get more use by others (who must not have their own toys at their own desks!) than by my self. Games are great for pairs and more, but toys – ah – who else is willing to admit they still buy an occasional Happy Meal for themselves?!