My daughter has more toys than she knows what to do with. Between my family, my husband’s family, friends, and church members, she’s set for quite a while (and by a while, I mean until her first birthday). Most of the time, she is completely content to sit on the floor and pull toys out one-by-one from her toy basket. She turns them over in her hands, bangs them against each other, and, of course, chews on them.
She’s content, that is, unless there is something else within her reach that is not a toy.
It doesn’t really matter what the item is, as long as it’s something she shouldn’t have. Popular choices include my cell phone, the remote control, anything made of paper or plastic, shoes, diapers, the baby wipes box, a Kleenex box, or nail clippers.
As soon as she gets a glimpse of one of these items, her toys might as well not exist. She casts them scornfully aside, and does everything in her power to get the forbidden item.
She can’t crawl yet, so this can be pretty comical. She leans, kicks, strains, and stretches, all to no avail. Sometimes she figures out how to get to whatever she wants by a series of clever rolls. If nothing she’s trying is working, she lets us know with some angry-sounding grunts.
Of course, when she was younger, we could quickly snatch the item away, put it out of her sight, and she quickly forgot about it. Now that she’s older and doesn’t forget quite so quickly, we’ve been dealing with some mini tantrums.
It’s not that there’s anything wrong with her toys. They’re brightly colored. They make cool sounds. They sparkle; they shine. They have mirrors. They talk to her. Still, they don’t stand a chance against a nearby laptop or glass of water.
Why she only wants the things she can’t have, I’ll never know. I guess they start early.