AnchorMommy

Psst! Toy cleanup tip: the Fairy Hiccup works miracles

August 11, 2009 by Shannon

I have come to the conclusion that children’s toys are a blessing and a curse. On one hand, they keep Kellan entertained. On the other, they replicate like rabbits all over the floor, and cause me to curse under my breath when I step on them. Toys are not easy on the feet.

A couple weeks ago, the bathtime/bedtime routine was seriously overdue and I faced a family room littered with playthings. I was so tired, and just didn’t feel like enduring the struggle of making him clean up the entire room. And there was no WAY I was going to pick up the mess myself. So out of sheer desperation, I borrowed a toy cleanup tip I recently read about in a parenting magazine. I told Kellan that if he didn’t put away his toys before bed, the Pickup Fairy would come at night and take away everything he left out.

Kellan stopped in his tracks.

“A fairy?” he asked with hesitation.

“Yes,” I said. “But she only comes at night. Like Santa or the Easter Bunny. If she sees any toys left out, she picks them up and takes them home.”

He looked around at the toy bonanza at his feet. And then, before I knew it, he turned into a whirlwind of tidiness. Kellan raced around that family room like the Pickup Fairy was nipping at his heels. Toy food was stacked in his kitchen, books tucked away in the cabinet, and musical instruments (or rather, instruments of eardrum torture) piled into their storage box. I was shocked. I never dreamed a desperate little white lie would actually work.

Later that night as I got Kellan diapered for bed, I noticed he was unusually quiet, with a faraway look in his eyes. “You okay, Kellan?”

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

“Why are you scared?”

“I’m scared of the Fairy Hiccup.”

I think the wave of ensuing Mommy Guilt kept me from laughing out loud at how he transposed the words and traded ‘pickup’ for ‘hiccup.’ “Oh Kellan,” I replied in my most reassuring voice, “The Pickup Fairy is very nice. She’s not mean at all. She just likes to take toys that aren’t put away. But she is not scary. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, but he obviously didn’t believe me.

Since that night, the “Fairy Hiccup” has taken on new roles — at least in Kellan’s mind. He sometimes blames her for his misdeeds around the house, such as spills. And he has even suggested that I seek out her advice. (During my fruitless search for specific breed of cow for a freelance writing assignment, Kellan advised that I ask the “Fairy Hiccup” where they might be. Who knew she is such an authority on cattle?)

I feel a little bad that I employ a complete fabrication to motivate my son. But guess what — once Kellan’s head hits the pillow, my floors are free of toy trucks and wiffle balls. Night after night. Thank you Fairy Hiccup. You are a magical fairy, indeed.