One Of the Many, Many Reasons I Cannot Sleep at Night

Sam, in his old age, has acquired many toys. We have blocks, balls, rattles, drums, stuffed animals, things that squeak, things that ring, ad nauseam. You get the fucking picture. Some of the toys are part of a set. For example, everyone recognizes this Fisher Price classic, right? Well, I can't fall asleep at night unless every ring is nestled snugly in it's proper order on that damned yellow pole. He has a shape sorter set that has square, circle, triangle and star blocks, one in each color of red, blue and green. Once he's in bed, all twelve pieces must be in the container with the lid securely on, or my right eye twitches violently. My parents, in their ongoing attempt to propel me off the deep end so as to gain custody of their grand baby, bought Sam a toy that comes with a set of ten balls. Each ball has something inside of it. A few of the balls make sounds, like the one with a bell inside, and the cat freaking loves them. Consequently, I am forever in search of balls. Every night I gather them all together and start counting. Anything less than ten is unacceptable, and requires lifting furniture and using flashlights.

So you see, I am truly insane. I have baby toy OCD. Other aspects of my house are a wreck. There are weeks worth of mail fliers piled on every available surface. Laundry gets washed and folded, but rarely put away. And yet, I become unglued if one toy is missing.

God help me when this kid discovers LEGOs.