Into the Closet of Forbidden Treasures

The closet of forbidden treasures: Every child's dream, every parent's worst nightmare.

Yesterday my son opened the door to the closet of forbidden treasures. "Mommy, mommy, I want my "rocking dog" (Pottery Barn Kids alternative to the rocking horse) and the beanbag chair."

"Out of the closet!" I yell. "You are not to go in that closet!"

"But mommy, I want my "rocking dog" and the beanbag chair."

"Do I have to come down there? Shut the closet door." But my words mean nothing. I can hear him trying to pull the "rocking dog" out from underneath the giant Love Sak beanbag chair. I breathe deeply before heading downstairs to stop my son from closet disaster. All of these forbidden treasures are crammed in this closet and one wrong move could, well end in an closet avalanche.

As I arrive on scene, my son is tugging the wooden handles of the "rocking dog" but its not budging, but the wicker basket on top of the beanbag chair and the Easter baskets are looking precarious. I am sure the wicker basket is filled with the wooden block set I took away after the "broken window" incident. I'll never forget that... way back on an evening where I was doing "Miss Liza's Date Night," a mom brought her two year old, who wasn't staying, but came in long enough to rip a block out of my son's hand and hurl it through his bedroom window. I can still hear the sound of glass shattering. It happened to be on mother's day weekend, so my gift was a new window. The guy at the hardware store felt sorry for me and only charged me $40 for the glass. I felt lucky and decided once was enough and into the closet of forbidden treasures the blocks were laid to rest.

"Please, mommy, I want my "rocking dog."

"Sam, do you know what the rocking dog is for?"

"Of course, it's for rocking on."

"Right, but why did I put it away?"

"Because we were pretending to surf on it."

"Right, and who ended up with a bloody lip?"

"Tessa."

"Right, so why should I get that dog out?"

"I promise I will never try to surf on the dog again. One more chance."

"Well, you are five now, maybe you deserve a second chance." I wasn't planning on holding my breath. It would only be a matter of hours before that dog was back in the closet. I was sure, but you never know?

No sooner did he have the dog in his room was he back at the closet trying to negotiate the beanbag chair.

I was not budging on this one... "Absolutely not. That beanbag chair is a liability. Do you know what that means?" My son shakes his head "no."
"I didn't think so. Anyway, that beanbag may sit there until Jack is ten."

"I want it!" He yells at me.

"Say that one more time and the "rocking dog" is back in the closet. I do not want to relive the beanbag chair history."

My son retreats and I look at that dreadful beanbag chair and shut the closet. Good riddance. I remember the first time I saw a Love Sak beanbag chair, I was enamoured. I remembered the yellow bean bag chair that I had as a child and couldn't believe its evolution. It had gone from a child-sized vinyl chair filled with little white Styrofoam beads to an adult-sized, slip-covered chair filled with what felt like some sort of gel that molded to my body as I sat in it. I felt lost in the over-sized seat. How cool, but when I looked at the price tag of $300, I sadly walked away.

Months later I was at a friend's house and she was showing me this room over her garage where he teens liked to hang out. In the room she had two Love Saks. I got so excited I jumped into one and expressed my jealousy. She then offered me one and before I knew it, I was on my way home with the Love Sak stuffed in my trunk. I couldn't wait to get it home. My kids were going to love me, but little did I know what I was in for with this beanbag chair.

I proudly brought the children to see the beanbag chair when they came home from school. "It is so big, two of you can sit in it together. No fighting, please!"
At the time, I had only three children, and my oldest was nice enough to let the little ones use it first. I walked away feeling excited that they could have such a cool chair, when I had such a crappy one as a kid, all seemed fine until a few days later when their friends were over.

I was upstairs in our kitchen washing dishes when I heard this thumping noise. I couldn't figure out what it was, so I went downstairs to see and when I opened the door to the playroom I was horrified. There they were. Four children standing on the top shelf of a four tiered bookshelf jumping down into the beanbag chair. "Get down!" I yelled, worried that the bookshelf was going to tip over. "You can't do that. Someone is going to get hurt." The kids were giggling. "But its fun, mommy!" My then three year old son piped up. They all started crying as I dragged the beanbag chair into the bedroom. "No more beanbag chair for now!"

I went back upstairs. The kids went on playing. About twenty minutes later, my five year old daughter at the time, came upstairs crying. She had bumped her head. "How?" I asked. She grabbed my hand and brought me downstairs to her bedroom. There they were, on the top bunk of the bunk bed, jumping off into the beanbag chair.
This was worse than the shelf. "What are you doing? Don't you know what a beanbag chair is for?" I asked exasperated? "Certainly not for jumping off of furniture. You could end up with broken bones." I dragged the beanbag off and stuffed it into what has now become the closet of forbidden treasures. I won't even go into the story about how they brought the beanbag back out of the closet and my son jumped into it by the window and hit his head and had to get seven stitches and of course this happened after bedtime! Needless to say, the second time that beanbag chair was placed in the closet, it was a permanent move!

How could something that I thought would be so cool to have, become my worst nightmare? Why do my kids always seem to find alternative uses to what on the surface seems harmless. A beanbag chair? Of all things, it is meant for sitting in, but no, not with my kids. Then I remembered something. When I was about seven, I remember using my beanbag chair as a giant catcher's mitt. I wanted to practice my fastball, unfortunately for me, I decided to place it in front of my bedroom window and I missed the target and the window broke. My mother was furious.

So once again, I have discovered the "apples" do not fall too far from the "tree." My kids are creative and imaginative. They like to think outside the box. Give them something and they will figure out how many ways they can use it beyond its standard uses, that is before it ends up in the closet of forbidden treasures.