Child Toys & Child Games

The child’s toys are the softest things you’ve ever felt. Their thinness is deceptive; you realize that they’re actually made of something that feels like chicken feathers.

The toys are made with the best quality wood, not cheap, inferior wood. Everything is carefully sculpted and painted and decorated. The child’s toys smell like mildew and mold if you’re close enough to smell them, but worst are the odors of chemical solvents and powders.

There is a faint scent of something one might find in a toy store: wood, gasoline, and hot glue ¾ a dozen different smells that combine for a sweeter smelling, more delightful aroma. The child’s toys are bright and colorful, but they’re just toys. They look like they should be fine and well-made, but they’re actually made of thin wood and plastic, flimsy and easily punctured.

The toys and game are all crafted for small hands, the colors bright and cheery. Activity tables are large and sturdy, the toys tasteful and the games enjoyable. It was a beige box standing over the forest, as fat as a pig, with a door as big as a refrigerator and a window as big as a boulder. Purple: the color of Magna Doodle, indigo, mulberry, conker and berry. Yellow: the color of Spice Girls, South Park, Bananarama and snot. Red: the color of Elastoplast, cobra’s venom, tomato, ostrich and ladybird. Blue: the color of drink, cyanide, the Israeli flag and ABBA, green: the color of pickles and jaundice, orange: the color of citrus, marmalade and The Prodigy.

The toys had been close to the little girl, so their edges were smooth and rounded. The toys and games were broken, the metal bent, and the plastic cracked, everything fell apart to pieces.

Why did toys taste like her taste? They shouldn’t have. The toys and games clattered and rattled as if a thousand voices shouted. All a child would need to keep score at home would be an empty candy wrapper and a stick of gum, but children have limited knowledge of math and logic.

They were heavy, but not in a bad way, not like the old wooden tops that fell when you picked them up.

The squeaky wheels of the toys rolling across the tabletop had a ratcheting sound. The toys and games were dusty and mildewed, the smell of time itself.

Their scent was faint, but they smelled of dirt, hand-me-downs, and the sweet tang of child. The toys and games were tucked in a corner, a collection of toys and games, a mountain of plastic and metal, storybooks and games, everything that was not yet broken.

The toys that lay scattered on top of the table looked like they had come from the same mold, but some were old and broken, while others were new and shiny. The child’s toys are the softest things you’ve ever felt. Their thinness is deceptive; you realize that they’re actually made of something that feels like chicken feathers.

The toys are made with the best quality wood, not cheap, inferior wood. Everything is carefully sculpted and painted and decorated.

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