We live in a 2200 sq.ft. house. We own about 3000 sq.ft. of toys. Something's gotta give here kids. Your grandparents love you plenty and want to buy you one of everything. Literally. However, somewhere in this warehouse of fun is mommy and daddy's stuff.
Someday I'd like to be able to sit on my couch without getting Elmo wedged in my ass. I know I'm being picky, but people tend to get fussy in their old age. They like to be able to get a glass of water without tripping over skates. They like to get to the dinner table without having to move a huge plastic car. These are things that sound nice to me.
So when you hear Grammy and Papa planning on getting you the entire Playskool line-up for Christmas, please start chanting "books, books, books." Maybe chew some holes in your clothes. Go all Alex P. Keaton on them and ask for a savings bond. I don't care, just no more toys please.
Now that I'm thinking of it, Grammy and Papa's house looks awfully empty. That's it. I declare March 2009 the month of The Great Toy Migration.
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