Toys Still Rock

I'd like to think that I'm a little too grown up to be completely obsessed with toys. But I can't think that. My imagination is not that good. To be honest, I wouldn't even like to think that. I am perfectly alright with being obsessed with toys.

And I know as you get older, your toys are supposed to develop, but mine haven't. I can't get that jazzed about power tools. I'm not attracted to boats or guns or sports cars. I actually like Addison's toys more than any of that stuff. And he is infinitely more interested in tools and construction and trucks than I ever was. Yes, I think I am admitting that my four-year-old son is more of a man's man than I am.

It is the stunted growth of my toy lust that makes Christmas so much fun for me. See, my years of actually receiving toys (the kid ones, not stuff like DVD players and HD anything) are gone, so my long-starved appetite for all things toy is finally being fed. Addison's 5th Christmas is the first one offering me toys I can really get into. I mean, I'm not a toy infant. I don't drool over teethers and exersaucers.

But this year, Santa brought slot cars, toy trumpets, firefighting water guns, Rubik's Cubes, Hot Wheels sets, and miscellaneous talking tow trucks back into my life. And it was as much fun as I can remember a Christmas ever being.
Now let me walk you through some of the moments pictured here. The first pic is from Christmas Eve, when Addison unwrapped a talking Mater toy from Aunt Amy. Aside from one of my favorite pictorial instructions of all time (the instructions actually indicate with arrows that if you push the truck, it will zoom forward . . . i.e. it has wheels that really turn!) I just loved Addison's reaction to his first glimpse of Mater. His face lit up like a star over Bethlehem, and his voice went up an octave (which, if you've ever heard him talk, is really saying something). The trumpet-playing firefighter came about 1.5 seconds into the initial stocking surveillance. This kid can put on an outfit and break into a toy faster than Santa up a chimney. And the third moment, filled with gleeful intensity, came after a 20-minute frenzied track installation and successful search of the battery bin. The endorphins really start jumping when I get to put D batteries in stuff. Every moment was bliss. I think Addison liked it, too.

I feel like when I type this much, there really should be a deeper point, but . . . my only point is that toys rock. Amen.