When I was little, I had toys.
Oh, yes! I had toys.
I had blocks, and I had Lincoln Logs. I had a gun and holster (Hopalong Cassidy).
I had a small stuffed bunny with which I slept.
I had various board games, coloring books and crayons.
I had Pick-Up Stix.
I had a small choo-choo train and tracks.
I also had books written for children.
And, then, I had my imagination. I'd often have an old towel safety-pinned to the shoulders of my t-shirt so that I could become Superman at any moment. Sometimes, old blankets could be tossed across a couple of chairs, and I'd have a fort or a tent or whatever secret place I wanted it to be.
None of these things were ever anywhere but in my bedroom...or out on the porch. They did not fill a living room with oversized things as kids get today. In the living room, I had my own child-sized rocking chair.
Today, I watch HGTV and shows about people needing more room, and I discover that their living rooms and dining rooms are loaded down with kids' toys leaving no room for adults.
Seriously?