If I had to guess I’d say we’ve spent about $300 on cat toys over the past two years. He has played with them all for about ten minutes. There is one toy that he never tires of: milkies. Milkies are the plastic rings that get ripped off the top of milk containers. He loves those damn things. He spends half his day chasing the top of the milk carton around the house and the other half licking his balls in exhaustion.
Kids are the same way. Spend thousands of dollars on toys and they spend their afternoon banging on a pot with wooden spoon. What does this mean? We are as dumb and finicky as cats but with less ball licking (SOME of us).
It got me thinking about the things I played with as a kid weren’t really toys
Empty Paper Towel/Wrapping paper rolls
Swords. Batons. Lightsabers. Maybe just grab one end and yell as loud as possible to hear your voice echo out the other side. The fun never ended. Until they break. Then you just grab another roll, flush the evidence down the toilet and use that roll as the world’s largest spitball cannon. Distance varies.
Bugs
Spent hours torturing ants, ladybugs, and centipedes. Can you think of a more inhumane death than to get caught in a jar and used as some medieval lantern? Worse, it was encouraged by parents. “Here is a Smuckers jar, go play God.”
Label Maker
I have no idea why but everyone in my family had a label maker. The old school kind looked like the Starship Enterprise. Spelling out stickable curse words never got old. Who’s skateboard is this? Cockhammer’s that’s who!
Calculators
The only time numbers were fun. Especially when you can flip them upside down to spell boobies or boobless.
Couch Cushions
Bored of morning cartoons? Time to build a fort. Set up the large cushions as walls, the smaller cushions as the roof and use the throw pillows for their intended purpose: to throw. Normally at brothers and sisters who were forbidden fort access and accidentally at lamps. The lamps triggered a ground attack on the fort by Dad. Ass beatings are just a part of war son.
Expired Credit Cards
Ah the reckless days of yore where identity theft was a myth and asbestos just a delicious desert topping. My parents and Aunt gave me expired credit cards to play “pretend businessman”. I would use them in an attempt to break into locked doors around the house. Also on the front door of the neighbor’s house. That alarm was so damn sensitive.
Dirt
Dirt bombs. Dirt castles. Dirt sandwiches. Some kid pisses you off and you rub some in his eye. Don’t get me started on mud.
Matches
You weren’t supposed to play with matches. Doesn’t mean you listened. Then you got “the lesson” where something almost caught fire and you quit cold turkey and moved on to something safe like lighters and aerosol cans.
Food
Mom’s grub wasn’t always edible so it became source of amusement. How many scoops of mashed potatoes could you fit in your mouth? How far can you shoot a bean with your fingers? Will your brother notice is you drop a pork chop in his milk? A personal favorite was blowing bubbles into a drink until it overflowed onto the table. Ever get stabbed with a fork by a pissed off mother? I’ll color you lucky.
Your Genitals
You had those things in your hand at any free moment.
