Toybox

Anya now has my old toybox in her room.

When I was a kid (probably in Ohio), my dad made me a hefty toybox out of scrap plywood and my mom decorated it with pretty decals. I loved that toybox. In my childhood, it housed various toys and stuffed animals. Being a weird kid (or possibly a very typical kid), it sometimes housed the dog and/or cats (who had no say in this) or things I found in the yard. Sometimes I would clear it out and hide myself in there. I covered it in stickers, drew on it with crayons, used it as a seat, and generally abused the thing. When I was older, it mainly housed books, "junk", and art supplies. And after I moved out, it sat in my mom's house for years.

A month and a half ago, my stepfather Bruce took it apart and shipped it to us. Over the course of a few weeks, we put it back together, filled in all the gouges and holes with putty, put on a few coats of primer and paint, and added a mechanism to slow the lid down when being shut (it's very heavy and I don't want it to smash baby fingers). Last night I finally finished it and this morning we put it in Anya's room.

It means a lot to me that I can pass something important from my childhood down to Anya. And I wonder what kind of memories she'll make growing up with this toybox.

After. Light yellow paint instead of white, to offset the yellowing of the decals. It's not perfect, but, hell, Anya is just going to cover it with crayons and who knows what else anyway.