Medical Malpractice

We have too many toys.  And like most children, my boys seem to take more interest in a toy's packaging than in playing with the item itself, so once the thin cardboard and shrink wrapping are completely shredded and halfway through the dog's digestive tract, we are left with a huge pile of neglected toys.

Finally, I enacted the "bait and switch", which is not only an effective tactic for entertaining your kids but also an excuse to blatantly lie to them under the guise of their best interests.  All this really involves is a good 30 minutes when the kids are sleeping, one really big box, and a shelf tall enough that the kids can't see in.  Put a third of their junk in the box and pretend like it never existed for a few months, and when you replace those items a few months later, they'll completely forget that you lied because they are so excited to see their army men/airplane/scrap of cardboard from the storage box.


With this cycle in mind, I very carefully removed some hidden toys from the Hoarders headquarters storage room and replaced them with items that have lost their playtime potential and have been treated more like you'd expect an actual scrap of cardboard to be received. 

One of the reintroduced toys was a small doctor's kit that Cael had received last year at his birthday.  The stethoscope disappeared shortly after it's inaugural use and was later located, encased in poop, in the backyard, signaling that it met a very unhealthy end, ironically enough.

But with the other pieces intact,  Cael and Graham donned their white jackets and launched into complex medical procedures on the furniture, the pets, and finally themselves, demonstrating for me their complete lack of education in human biology.

"Cael, I cut your tummy! 

"Okay, Graham.  Use the knife from the toolbench!"

See how nicely they've integrated their toys?




"I fix your stomach.  I fix your tummy next to your brain."

Disregarding the fact that one's brain is, in fact, not located in one's abdomen, Graham launched into a full-out surgical adventure, pretending to fist through Cael's innards until he claimed to have found "a germ and two Little People".  One big piece of Scotch tape closed him up and Cael was released with a clean bill of health.  But the procedures weren't complete. 

"Otay.  Now you fix me, Cael!"

"Lay down, Graham.  Here's some medicine."

 And with that, he plunged the fake syringe into Graham's foot and threw his head back in an evil cackle.

"That's right, Graham.  Lay still.  This shot is gonna make you a better kid."

I'll take a case, please.