Because I am mean and horrible (and/or about to shit a primary-colored plastic brick if I step on one more goddamned bloody Lego), I recently banished all toys from our living room. All. All the toys. Hereby, I declare: None toys in the living room.
Originally, in an aspirational what-family-do-I-think-lives-here frenzy, I gave board games a pass. I stacked them up neatly in a relocated buffet behind the couch, all pieces sorted and intact, a organzational masterpiece that lasted exactly 15 minutes before Ike pulled every single game out and upended them all over the floor.
So if we WERE the kind of family that held regular Game Nights*, the only option at this point would be some bastardized unholy version of Sorry, I Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus to Your Operation While Wearing a HedBanz and Then Some Underfed Hippos Ated The Hospital and A Bunch of Hotels. But you'd have to pretend to roll the dice; we no longer have any.
*Note: We are not. We are all entirely too competitive and it always ends badly. Also, Noah cheats. I SAW YOU MOVE AN EXTRA SPACE. IT'S NOT FAIR. I WAS WINNING. JA-A-SON, STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT.
Ahem. ANYWAY. Point is, I moved all their toys to the basement playroom and meticulously organized everything into baskets and stations by toy type and category. Trains, wooden. Transportation, other, assorted metal. Food, plastic, wood, felt. Cups, picnic-related. Cups, stacking. You get the general OCD idea.
Which of course means my children want nothing to do with any of those downstairs toys anymore (so classist!), and this has now taken up permanent residence in the middle of my living room:
This = a house. OBVIOUSLY. Did you not notice the chimney? With the fire and everything?
(Yes, that is The Napkin. Though Noah is less entranced with it now that it's come undone a couple times and my napkin rosette-rolling skills are apparently not restaurant quality.)
I'm sure it's a surprise to absolutely no one that this is all Ezra's doing.
It's gone through a few architectural changes (depending on pre/post-trash day cardboard box availability), and is surprisingly roomy.
I am currently under very strict orders not to "break the house." Even Noah barely got his pillow back last night.
Which means the first order of business this morning was install a replacement door.
While Ezra was distracted with breakfast, I admit I did some snooping to see the furnishings.
Because every house needs 1) a dog, 2) half-a-dozen plastic milks, 3) yellow money, 4) ice tongs, 5) picnic food, 6) a wooden cucumber and 7) a Thomas train and Dinoco helicopter.
When questioned, Ezra insisted that all those toys weren't, in fact, in the living room. That's the house's KITCHEN ROOM. The other basket is the house's living room, and it's empty. No toys there, Mom.
LOGIC = FLAWLESS. Outsmarted once again, alas.