Is This the Beginning of the End?

As parents of a toddler, Randy and I encounter plenty of opportunities to disagree. We both keep an eye on articles about best parenting practices, and of course all parents operate on a certain amount of intuition as well. The separate child development information we both come across each week, combined with that with which we naturally arrived at this stage in our lives, is bound to lead to occasional "healthy philosophical discourse."  No matter, no two people can come to a relationship with identical experiences and values, right? Besides, our views are generally very compatible.

Luckily for both of us, there is one area in which we are a particularly great fit: We both strongly prefer an organized, restorative physical setting and so have taken a minimalist approach to the whole toy thing. By erring on the side of having less, are there benefits we may be withholding from our child? Is it selfish to value maintaining a tiny reminder of our pre-child lives at the expense of a toddler's unadulterated fun? We have decided that, for us, the benefits of our choices outweigh these risks. Of course, all families will come up with different answers to these questions and settle on what sort of setting they are most comfortable with. There are (almost) no "right" or "wrong" answers. I think the most important thing is just that we ask these questions in the first place and respond with deliberately chosen actions, to avoid the instance of one partner waking up some morning and purchasing a one-way ticket for the first train to Someplace Else. Joking aside, we have found that ensuring our home bears some evidence of adult residents maintains our sanity and seems to keep the baby from becoming overwhelmed as well. By limiting the number of toys underfoot, we spend less time cleaning, and feel the baby has the opportunity to actually enjoy one item for a sustained amount of time before compulsively moving on to the next one. She also seems to spend more time with her books than she might otherwise, which we like.

But even this agreed upon minimalism is fraught with plenty of ambiguity. How much is too much? How much is enough?  This is the more difficult consideration. We want to make sure that the quickly developing little human in our house is enjoying life, being exposed to enough stimulation, and not missing out on any tools that can assist her in the developmental of important milestones. Furthermore, we realize that play is a child's work, and certain toys can truly enrich her life. So every couple of months, we try to think of new items she will enjoy based on her current interests and abilities. A few months ago, it was several boats for bath time and a ball. These were good choices and have been thoroughly enjoyed!

A Similar Alphabet Mat

Last weekend, it seemed time for the next toy phase. Randy and I discussed ideas for days, then spent at least an hour in the toy aisle trying to make up our minds. We had several criteria related to age appropriateness. I had one criteria related to ME-appropriateness: As few pieces as possible. Because she loves animals, we chose a sound equipped farm with a little person figure - who quickly thereafter became known as "Baby MacDonald" - and his five livestock. We also purchased a large, foam, alphabet puzzle mat. You've seen them. They're approximately five feet by five feet with jigsaw connected multicolored squares and contrasting colored letters embedded in each. The mat fits perfectly in one of the designated play spaces at our house.

Upon arriving home, we were immediately reminded of how rewarding it is to watch your child make new discoveries. Her delight in the farm "baby" and his animal friends was evident, and she spent hours laying on her tummy on the alphabet mat playing with the figures, making sounds for them, exploring the farm and learning new farm vocabulary like "EE-I-Ee-I-OHHHH," "Goat," and, well, "Farm."

But, somehow, until she provided an extensive demonstration yesterday, it hadn't occurred to me that the alphabet squares actually come apart, the letters remove from each, and the letters' internal pieces (like the triangle in 'A' and the oval in 'O') are separate, removable pieces as well. It turns out that: The Letters of the English Alphabet + A Square for Each + The Tiny Internal Shapes = 60 Pieces. So, the purchase I imagined creating a lovely, contained, visually separate play space will actually instead be a terrific opportunity for me to resist my obsessive compulsive desire to constantly replace each letter and little piece moments after spotting that one has been removed. Besides, that would be an entirely endless, fruitless effort, because her new favorite thing to do has become deconstructing the entire mat and transporting each piece one by one into the next room, creating massive "piles" (another new vocabulary word).  But as much as I appreciate an adult-friendly setting, I am coming to love a certain amount of messy childishness, too. It is such fun to watch her manage to think up a job to do and then - while proudly reciting letters, in this case - take it on with studied, unshakable determination. Occasionally, she spots me watching her march back and forth, and peers coyly through the letter-shaped hole in the square currently in transport, announcing "I Shee Ooo!" (Translation: I See You). Afterwards, she invariably emits a peel of amused giggles. (Happy sigh.) Yes, I suppose I can compromise and allow a several dozen-piece toy...  But just this once.

- Sarah