A Visit to a Toy Store

I love toy stores--especially ones like this that feature old fashioned toys that do things and invite you to do things of your own imagining with them--none of that plastic fantastic Barbie franchised merchandise. This toy store was about wood and magnets and LIncold Logs and blocks and old fashioned wind up toys. And this toy store encouraged you to play with the toys--nearly all the boxes and packages had samples available for playing with--and I did.

The store owner was cheerful and eager to help. It is also that kind of a toy store. My friend and I looked like the grandmothers we are and some other time we might well have asked her to step us through the toys or guide us to the section of thus and such toys. This wasn't that kind of a day.

Likewise, many days I share openly the story of my brother whose Alzheimer's has brought me to this store today. Lately my conversation has been too full of "early onset" "yes, still at home" "only a few years older then me, really" and the sympathetic words that follow. By the time my friend and I had walked around the toy store looking at nearly everything to find the things that might engage him without frustrating him or looking too much like a child's toy, my heart was feeling heavier and heavier. And so when the cheerful, helpful owner approached me and demonstrated a toy that an infant could look through and put things in, I first said simply, "I am looking for something more tactile." I didn't want to say that most of the time my brother doesn't see the same things we think are in the world. When she persisted in a friendly, helpful way to ask what age the child was and I replied, "67," she stepped aside. Not unkindly or startled but there was nothing in her preparation that identified such toys and she knew that I was not going to offer the kind of conversations about grandchildren or favourite toys from our childhood that no doubt more often fill the store.