Discovery Toys . . .tee emm.

Our current pared back, simplified lifestyle is void of a number of gadgets and gizmos. We literally have just. what. we. need. and nothing more. It's been freeing to some degree, and a realization in some areas as to just how much I use some of those make-life-easier technological toys.

There is evidence that all of us have been impacted by this bare bones style of living, and all in all, I'm calling it 'for the better'.

One particular member of our gang really seems nonplussed at the shift.

Yes, I'd be speaking of that cute kid we've named Keller.

I've purchased him a few meager, inexpensive toys: a set of balls that have tactile sensory nubs; a blow-up jingle tube that he call pull himself up on and gingerly walk/crawl the floor with; a hanging elephant that has numerous colors/fabrics/designs/sounds . . .and of course, Grandma purchased him a swim ring, with which to enjoy the pool with.

I really should have remembered. I really shouldn't be suprised. I really should think this kind of thing through for the future.

You see, I've come to the realization that the toys are for me. Us. The Moms.

Today's toys are marketed to moms who, in love with their babies and their baby's learning developmental curve, walk right into Target, straight to the baby aisle, and begin oooh-ing and aaahhhh-ing over the *most cutest* new item they've ever laid their eyes on. And at that moment ~ the moment the new toy touches their fingertips, they simply *must* own one for their own child. Meanwhile, the child is playing contentedly in the cart nearby, chewing and slobbering on his mother's purse strap.

Which brings me to my point.

Keller's favorite toys are, in ascending order of importance:

1. The computer keyboard. He preferrs the one I am using, but he settles for the discarded version, that we've placed for him on the floor.
2. The dog dishes. Oh heavens! If we don't remember to pick them up before he crawls into the kitchen . . .
3. The knobs on the dresser drawers. Occassionally, he figures out how to open them.
4. The now new box in the room, completele with flaps that open and shut at his discretion.
5. Mom the Jungle Gym. Of course, he's not interested in climbing on Dad at all. Only Mom. All the time. Help.
6. The computer wires under the desk. The ones that have been sequestered away under a sheet to keep them hidden from his little eyes and hands. Of course, he knows they are there, and he humors us by letting us think that the wires are not his intended destination as he scoots under the table we call a desktop.

The smile he flashes at us when we move to retrieve him is the smile that makes me decide I'm nothing more than the supplier of Discovery Toys.

The real ones. The ones that cost next to nothing, and have no significance of exsistance except to entertain my son.

Yep. That's my name, entertaining the baby is my game.

Discovery Toys: tee emm.