Toys have taken over my house and I’m taking a stand

So many toys, so little space.

With three little people living in our house, I can't walk without stepping on a piece of brightly-coloured plastic. I can't sit on the sofa without being stabbed in the arse by a pink unicorn. Toys have now invaded my personal space to a level only seen on Extreme Hoarders Gone Wild. My attempts to offload bags of toys to various other locations have inevitably failed. Charity shops aren't keen on unboxed toys, hospitals don't want stuffed animals because they pose a hygiene risk (well, ours definitely do to be fair). Other parents have their own toy overload woes without my 'charitable' assistance, and my children appear to have developed some sort of powerful sixth sense regarding any item that makes it as far as the bin. Of course, the fact that I share the kitchen table with the entire cast of Lego Ninjago is partly my own fault. My maternal enthusiasm that my first-born child should want for nothing and have every possible toy at his fingertips, kickstarted the storage chaos I now find myself in. I can't even stand by the 'I spoiled my first' excuse, because when the girl child came along there was a second wave of toy madness; pink plastic was strewn as far as the eye could see. The other guilty parties include grandparents, Santa, and friends who don't have children themselves and reckon a sing-along-Elmo that never shuts the fu*k up is a great idea. But it is the sheer abundance of toys, rather than their educational and enriching qualities, that has left my kids without play focus or purpose. Invariably, they walk past the stacked shelves in their rooms, not seeing or playing with any of them. So, this mama is drawing an etchasketch line in the sand. No more. This weekend I'm clearing out the storage buckets and I will not give in to any further whining that has been influenced by advertising, movies, or television programmes. I may be persuaded to permit chalk, simple blocks of wood, or nostalgic tin trains that are reminiscent of a bygone age when farting minions were unimaginable. If the kids have a problem with it I'll just tell them that mummy has six Nerf Vulcan Blasters and I'm not afraid to use 'em.