One of my best friends, James, has the uniquely distinct ability to
separate the chaff from his life and focus on the truly important
things in life. His general philosophy revolves around the fact that,
as America has become a more affluent and suburban nation, people have
lost perspective and tend to spend a lot of time bitching about their
"high-class problems."
Needless to say, James' words were at the forefront of my mind when I read this article telling me why I absolutely needed to have a "toy room."
First of all, I didn't even know what the fuck a "toy room" was
until I read this article. Apparently, a toy room is "a special place
where children can escape and get lost in their own
imagination...because every child needs a special, magical place."
It's a separate private room in the house where a child can keep all
his toys so that the entire house doesn't become overrun with them.
Bwahahaha!
I laugh because the first thing any of my single or childless
friends says when they come over to our apartment is, "Holy shit,
dude! What the fuck happened to your apartment?" Needless to say, our
entire apartment is a "toy room." I'm constantly stepping on crayons,
wiping play-dough off my clothes, or spiking my foot with Legos.
Yes, it's true. I live in Manhattan, a city where 750 square feet of
apartment can run well over a million dollars. However, I have friends
who live in the suburbs whom I think would also find the concept of a
"toy room" equally laughable. For most of us, having a "toy room" is
like one of those legendary parenting myths...like affordable daycare
or safe public schools.
I don't know. Maybe I've just been living in the concrete jungle
too long. Do you people actually have "toy rooms" for your kids?
About MetroDad
I'm a French-named, speed-reading, former public policy analyst now trapped in the body of a Asian-American fashion executive. I've ridden elephants in Sri Lanka, imbibed snake venom in China, skiied the Italian Dolomites, eaten barbecue in Pakistan, travelled to every state except North Dakota, visited 28 out of 32 major league ballparks, worshipped at the altar of Graceland 5 times and have shut down most of the nightclubs in Paris. That being said, I still get lost every time I go through the Lincoln Tunnel.
It's safe to say that we'd probably get along if you can truly appreciate the real beauty in...a good Peking duck, Sunday's NYT crossword, nice manners, Scrabble, Law & Order, spontaneous travel, Otoro, Jim Jarmusch, Tabasco sauce, Morrissey, Haruki Murakami, Peets coffee, Radiohead, listening to baseball games on the radio, Thievery Corporation, X-Men comics, fresh powder, Southern BBQ, Christopher Hitchens, bloomin' onions, mid-century design, the warmth of a good scotch, a great day spent fishing where you didn't catch a damn thing...
On a related note, I'd like to believe that I probably have absolutely nothing in common with another human being who really loves any of the following: pro bass fishing on tv, NASCAR, low carb Cabernet, Kathey Griffin, Microsoft, the Olsens, Applebees, Jessica Simpson, romance novels, tofu bacon, Pamela Anderson, ballet, "Survivor" or HUMMERs. Similarly, I could also never be friends with someone who mixes up "they're", "there", and "their". I will give you a smidge of credit if you know the difference between "if" and "whether". But if you leave any participles dangling, we're breaking up.
In conclusion, let me just say...
Lex clavatoris designati rescindenda est.
(The Designater Hitter Rule has got to go)
