I crawled under Brighton’s bed the other day. The black hole in B’s room. Wow. Unbeliev-able. With my face crammed in the carpet filling my nose with under-the-bed-carpet-dust, I discovered everything I once thought was lost. (Unfortunately, neither my keys nor my memory card was among the serious plunder.) I counted the pieces I found…..27. Twenty seven pieces of “things” that are kin to toys stashed away in his closet. It was Christmas for B all over again. Pirate ship canons, swords and shields for knights, a stop sign, a yield sign, farm animals, Leggo pieces, a construction barrier, missiles, a canteen, a canoe paddle, (all the above no bigger than your pinkie) used up stickers, dried up Play-Dough, train track, view master discs, books, book pages (ugh!!), Hot Wheels, Hot Wheel tires, a mini baseball helmet, library book inserts (what ARE those for, anyway?), Nerf bullets and some unidentifiable objects which landed in the trash. Moms of girls, keeping up with Polly Pocket accessories is a breeze compared to ALL the debris that comes along with boy toys! I know why all this turns up under there. My boy loves his bed. I give him free reign of his entire 10x12 space during “room time” and when I go up to check on him, where do I find him? On his bed surrounded by toys that would work much better on the floor. Remote control cars just weren’t made to maneuver quilts and pillows. Race tracks don’t stay snapped together over a mountain of covers. Action figures even in all their glory cannot stand up on a blanket. It’s his preference of where to play and it isn’t a battle I am choosing. Sometimes when I am downstairs where it is relatively quiet, I can hear the larger “things” sliding down between his bed and the wall—a new addition to the abyss under the bed, not to surface for quite some time. It used to really bug me. Poor Julia—I practically had an inventory sheet for her to fill out after each time she played to make sure we had all pieces in their proper places. (We never did find the yellow pony’s hair brush.) As for Brighton, I just gave up on the “pieces”. If I asked him to go under his bed to rescue his stuff, he would look at me with a face of fear and tell me it was “too dark under there”. As for me, I am not motivated to wedge myself under there except about once a month…. or two. This way I make sure it’s really worth the trip and I come out from under there……….a hero.