The day after Christmas. What can be said about the day after Christmas? You spend it desperately trying to cover from a turkey and stuffing coma, and tediously picking scraps of wrapping paper out of the carpet that no matter how many times you pass over with a vacuum, just won’t come up… but for the most of us- the majority of the day after Christmas is spent doing one thing; one obnoxious, annoying, completely self inflicted thing: putting together toys.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we, as parents, buy shit that on the box says “Some Assembly Required”- when we KNOW that is NOT THE TRUTH.
SOME assembly means countless hours of sweating and cursing and calling inanimate objects whores because the pieces that are supposed to go together won’t fucking go together no matter how hard we shove, pound, and force.
I am guessing the definition of “some” is a loose one in the toy making industry.
As I was sitting and watching Thomas put together the boys toys today (yes, I said WATCHING. Fuck if i’m going to be the one putting that shit together. I’d either break the toy or someone’s face if I tried), all I could do was thank the stars that it wasn’t me doing it.
Toy manufacturers, nothing more than a conspiracy to drive parents crazy or completely bankrupt them; maybe both. Who am I kidding? PROBABLY both!
Every single toy as eleventy gajillion little pieces and confusing, half-assed and at BEST hazy instructions on what the fuck to do with them. Pieces that either get lost within 3 minutes, or broken in 10. Pieces that all end up requiring that you either buy a fucking refill pack or replace the whole damn thing- doesn’t matter if we have the money or not, or just hemorrhaged money from our asses to pay for Christmas or a Birthday party, a brand new toy breaks and your kid fucking LOSES IT and you’d do just about anything to shut them up- including (but not limited to) spending more money.
Hours upon hours spent putting together a stupid-ass Handy Manny house, for the kids to get bored and walk away in 5 minutes. Fuck you Fez!
53 minutes putting together a cardboard castle for it to already be sagging and on the verge of collapse in under 20 minutes of play. And by play I mean kicking the fuck out of it and fighting inside of it even after repeatedly being told NOT to.
Three hours, a husband making up new curse words and having to remove clothing due to stress sweat in order to assemble a toybox that isn’t even being used to put toys inside of.
And an entire stack of toys left that will need “some assembly” in order to properly play with.
Mommy is tempted to tell the children the toys are meant to be in a gazillion pieces and NEVER PUT ANYTHING TOGETHER AGAIN…
Oh wait, I didn’t in the first place…. carry on.
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.
Parenthood is when you start counting the minutes to bed time before 11am.
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