If you came over to our (her) house today, I'd have to kick out of your way plastic easter eggs, broken crayons, a tiny purse, a singing chinchilla, a wee white sock, Play Doh, Sesame Street DVDs, and a sippy cup half-full of water. That's on your way to the kitchen, one room in.
In our living room, where our one TV (not a flat screen, given to us by a friend) is, you'll find about six different "moving" toys -- a moose from LL Bean, her Poo Choo (a Winnie the Pooh rider with lots of sounds), a pint-sized baby stroller (with about six different babies whose limbs are hanging out on all sides), an old-as-the-hills push-walker-thingy we got for 50 cents at a baby sale, a wheely bug bee that she has never been too crazy about, and an old scooter that she insists we ride. Her toddler table and chairs sit in the center of the room. Stacked on top of the coffee table are a tin full (and sometimes empty) of colored pencils and crayons, lots of coloring paper (no longer attached to the pad), and a kitty cat that "meows!" when squeezed. A magazine rack that holds Dwell, Downeast, the New York Times, and The New Yorker also holds Barnyard Boogie, Curious George, Go, Dog, Go!, and Fluffy Pets.
If you went upstairs to our office, you'd find a plastic slide about 5-feet tall and wide, which I wanted so badly for her that I strapped it to the top of the car (fully assembled) and drove the 10 miles home going no more than 20 mph. Around the slide there are Legos, books, a potty (used for storage of her most precious items), a teensy shoe box for the items that don't fit in the potty, an Etch-A-Sketch, and, by the computer, three finger puppets.
In her room, she has taken all of the books off of the shelves. There is a diaper box covered in a towel that she now uses as a "seat." Stuffed animals everywhere. Her clean clothes, which I usually hang up, are piled up outside of her closet waiting to be put away. A brush, comb, and toothbrush are on the carpet in the middle of the room. One of her favorite books is right outside of her doorway in the hall, surely abandoned for something more interesting.
In the master bathroom, where she bathes, her little footstool hangs out in front of the sink so that she can brush her teeth all by herself (LIKE A BIG GIRL). There are probably 60 bath toys in multiple spots around the tub (some in a turtle container, on the floor next to the tub). Also there? Baby body washes, shampoo, pink washcloths, books, and a ducky faucet cover (safety).
When I made our bed this morning, I found a pink blanket that belongs to her. In the drawer of my bedside table, she has stashed all sorts of odds and ends that she probably didn't want anymore (but couldn't part with). A broken-tipped colored pencil, an empty-ish Chapstick.
When she moves in, SHE MOVES IN. Container Store, I drool.
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