A Toy Too Many

One of the most defining events of this summer was my delightful discovery of the car boot sale that takes place every Sunday morning from June to August at the grass pitches of Hillsborough Arena. Its proximity to our house, less than two minutes down the hill if you push the baby buggy without any brakes, meant that Isaac and I have never missed an event regardless of the weather, before meeting his dad in the park.

On warm and sunny days, at most 100 cars would open up their back compartments and try to sell stuff they've left gathering dust in their attics or lying boxed in their cellars for who knows how many years before a big spring clean or an imminent house move. It's amazing the sort of things other people have accumulated in their homes but more fascinating still is how these ‘rubbish’ would eventually become another’s treasure.
The pitch opens at 7:30 but by the time we get there an hour later, most of the good ones have gone and the early birds would already be heading home with their hauls in large bags and trolleys. This does not stop late shoppers from pouring in numbers, some travelling from other parts of the city, until after 11:00 when most of the cars would leave.

It’s a bargain shopper’s paradise, with a potential snip to be had at every table. It was easy to understand how anyone could be tempted to take home things they probably don’t really need with the loose justification that they haven’t spent much for it in the first place. That was my excuse when almost every week, to John’s horror, I would present my finds, the accumulation of which included a pair of Converse shoes (my very first one!), a teapot set for our new kitchen, Isaac’s first shoes (a pair of Clarks nearly new and still in its box) and toys, loads of them, all without having to spend more than £5 in one week.

The buying of toys was completely against our shared understanding that children with too many find very little value in them. Up until this summer we had been content with the hand-me-downs and presents Isaac received from our friends and family save for the ‘important’ ones like his walker and push along trolley won on bidding wars from e-bay or the mini-trike we stumbled upon on a second hand shop in Middlewood Road. Being at nursery for three times a week means he has access to all the exciting toys he can dream of, with other children to play with. At home, he has been very content with opening the pages of his board books or hiding underneath his makeshift tunnel, our antique extending table, while I prepare dinner.

But what wouldn't you give your child if you have the opportunity especially when you have yourself grown up with very few battered and well-loved toys that saw you through your childhood? Which adult face wouldn't light up in fascination at the sheer amount of miniature worlds readily available to take home and relieve your inner child?
There was no question of course as to who would take more delight in owning these material pleasures. To the little boy they are all the same, objects meant to distract him from enjoying our company. For at the end of the day it’s not what we can buy him that he longs to have but the time we have to affirm his place in our busy lives. His toy kitchen isn’t as fun when he plays with it on his own than when I am sat there beside him, clapping every time he fits the right shape in the plastic fridge which makes him do it again and again relishing the approval. His cars are not as exciting as when we make noises together, the vroom and the beeps, as we go around the house chasing each other with laughter. His Mega Bloks farmhouse and animals are not as enjoyable as when we sing the Old McDonald song together while holding each animal that he now goes around the house saying ‘E-I-E-I’ all the time. In playing with him, I too experience the joys that I thought these little toys would have brought me in my early days.

But would they have really? Studies have proven that children with fewer toys have more opportunity to exercise their creativity and imagination, to give value to each toy with fierce attachment and loving care. Not having been brought up with a lot of toys or television in our house meant my siblings and I were able to develop a greater love for reading, writing and art. We became more resourceful, spending our summers growing up building tree houses in the forest near the farm where we used to live with materials sneaked out from our shed. We learned to share, with only one doll between us, my sister and I took turns playing with them and making hand-sewn dresses from old pillowcases. We created fantasy worlds and made up stories about the grown up parents with little children that we imagined ourselves to be. I don’t remember ever feeling deprived or missing out.

It’s very easy to forget that we didn't need plenty of toys to enjoy our childhood so chances are, our children won’t need those too. But when we have more resources than our parents had and there’s an endless rush of products being churned out from China in their cargoes, there is little time to think why we are constantly acquiring things. Do we really buy them for our children or for ourselves?

As for Isaac’s new toys, after realising that he is getting overwhelmed and confused by having too many of them to choose from, we have decided to put some in the cellar, to be taken out another time while the rest are placed inside a storage box and drawn out only one at a time. It seems to be working. He is now showing more interest in discovering each toy and taking more delight in them. Once he outgrows them, it will be our turn to take them to the car boot sale and let others share the joy we have experienced with them.

But just in case you are interested, here are the best buys of this summer's car boot sales. The Little People Village bought for £5 and the traditional rocking horse for £4! Now you know why I couldn't keep myself from buying them.