Who needs toys anyway? 

We’ve all heard the anecdote about the kid who finds the packaging more interesting than the toy inside so one year his parents just wrap up an empty box (genius).  But when you have yourself two fine beasts, it’s not just an empty box that becomes an unconventional play thing. What I’m about to list are at at best, merely frustrating things that The Beasts find more exciting than toys, and at worst, either downright unhygienic or plain dangerous. So I ask that you remove your judgy-pants while reading this post, resist the urge to call childline, and remember that your little cherubs probably haven’t always just played nicely with a pile of Lego or some Barbies.  Mummy  and / or daddy have *so far* been able to intervene (due to keeping the Beasts under constant surveillance, you’ll understand why by the time you get to the end) and have managed thus far to avoid serious injury, so do not be alarmed. 

The litter box. What could be more thrilling than clumps of soggy wood pellets, exuding the faint aroma of cat urine, to stick your hands in and scatter around the floor?

Rusty old screws or nails: no matter how hard you, as a parent, try to remove any such item from your home or garden, for fear that your small humans may swallow them or cut themselves and contract tetanus, Beast 1 boasts an uncanny ability to find a rusty nail, screw (or screws) in approximately 5 seconds flat. With his eyes closed. Once procured, these will then be paraded around like jewels, and he will attempt to screw it in to anything that looks worthy of an attempt – the lawn, the door frames, the carpets, the dining room chairs, his brother. 

A freshly mopped vinyl floor. You’re not anyone to either beast unless you’re prepared to remove your socks and run full pelt at said floor, then attempt to slide across it with the finesse of the word’s best snowboarder – this is the aim. What actually happens after removal of socks is two manic little humans legging it over to the wet floor, taking a leap, zooming across the surface and crashing into the wall on the opposite side, banging heads, limbs and each other. Then of course mummy’s the asshole for getting the steam mop out in the first place because the floor would’ve been dry if I’d just left it the hell alone. 

Stairgates. Completely unfit for purpose in this house. Way more fun if you’ve figured out how to open them before you’ve even hit two (because your brother’s shown you how), to hang on to the top and swing like a monkey backwards and forwards until the fastenings give in and the whole gate crashes to the floor. On top of you. And once again mummy’s the dick for “not screwing them in properly” *shit parent alert*

Toilet roll. When you’re beastly, the sole purpose of a roll of toilet paper is to be unravelled, at speed, onto the floor then used to mummify your sibling until their muffled cries for help attract attention, at which point you abandon ship and go in search of other things to do. Such as – 

Holes on the tv like USB or scart ports. Great for sticking things in, like food (the wetter the better) pens, the actual toys that are being largely ignored in general, your fingers,or even your tongue. Bonus points if you can manage to get your tongue in the USB hole and your fingers in the scart hole both at the same time. 

Baby wipes. As an adult you will never understand or agree with the phrase ‘I literally just turned my back for 10 seconds’ until you have seen a toddler empty a packet of baby wipes in that amount of time. After the thrill of pulling all of the wipes out, your beast will look at you smugly as you attempt to shove them all back in, giving up half way through as there seems no physical way you’re getting them all back in there. 

The plug sockets. Anyone familiar with Beast 1 will know of his obsession with electricity. He finds holes in the wall with little switches endlessly compelling & can remove a plug socket cover faster than you can say “don’t stick your fingers in there.”

The kitchen bin. What could be more fun than rummaging around in rotting food, wet pull up pants and soggy cold teabags?

DVDs. Endless fun can be had by circumventing the child locks on the cupboard (*amateurs* – daddy thinks he’s so clever screwing those sticks to the door, we’ll show him) then pulling out every DVD in there. Which is about 100. Once scattered over the floor it’s an easy job to remove the disks and lob them into the Black Hole of Lost Things – that place in every house where half the socks, Tupperware lids, the one piece of paper you really need to sort something important out, and now, all the good DVDs, go forever. They can’t even do me the courtesy of losing hubbo’s shite war films or my excersize DVDs *oh what a shame I can’t find the disk, I guess I’ll just have to sit down and eat two biscuits, a few donuts, a cake and the whole kitchen instead* no – they go and ‘disappear’ hunger games and twilight. Ffs. 

So when you ask to bring your children to my house and ask if it’s ‘baby proofed’ or ‘child friendly’ and I say yes, I really mean “only if your children are not beasts.” 😳🙄🤔😱

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