Boys and their Toys

My sister's latest blog inspired me to post this poem I wrote several years when my kids were about the age her kids are now!

My Boys and their Toys
by Cherilyn Dahlsten

My boys and their toys are a mystery to me
What will excite them is known only to the three
But to we gift givers, grandparents included
Often the perfect gift is illusive

They tear off the wrapping to get to what’s new
Gaze at the contents and say, “Wow! Cool!”
“It’s just what I wanted. Look what I got!”
“It’s the one I loved, the one I sought!”

For a week, sometimes two, they’re thrilled with the gift.
It’s way at the top of their ‘glad to have it’ list.

But then in days to come, it’s placed on a shelf
Or on the floor where it stays ‘til I move it myself
It’s not that they’re tired of it and are complaining, “I’m bored.”
No, they’re playing and enjoying their toys galore.

Their toys, their creations – things not found in stores
Swords made from sticks, their arrows from limbs
Jetpacks, really backpacks, their imaginations whims
Their blankets become capes so they can soar through the air
“Mom, can we have that box we found in there?”
We need it, for we’re hunters you understand.
And there’s a rabbit we saw whose capture we’ve planned!”

My silverware has half-disappeared
And if it returns it’s rather dog-eared
It’s been put to use somehow but in what way I don’t know
My pirates or treasure hunters had need of it though.

Every belt in our house has a new job description
It may tie up a bad guy or be a leash for a kitten.

Pillows and cushions for couches and beds?
You must be joking! But they make great sleds!
And forts, soft landings, nests, and water,
And trampolines, stepping stones, ways through hot lava!
Stack them all up and they’re a gymnast’s delight
(Now you know why they’re no longer white!)

Dental floss, yes dental floss, is a favorite of mine
Its Spiderman’s web and Batman’s bat line.

They’re not ungrateful for the loot they receive
It sometimes finds a role in a plot they’ve conceived.
But their pleasure in playing it seems to me
Is in creating, inventing, where their minds are free.

Toys with too many whistles and bells
Have only one use, one purpose, and it sells.
But two days later they’ve figured it out.
It’s lost all its glamour; it’s lost all its clout.

Deep down in their hearts they understand
Things don’t satisfy, they never can.
May the knowing grow stronger, as they grow up
You God, are the only one, who can fully fill their cup.