Bringing common sense with a grain of salt back to parenting!
Mistake: Believing more toys = more happiness, intelligence, or development.
Consequence: “We bought them a toy kitchen, but they’re cooking imaginary soup in the laundry basket.”
Reality Check: Toys aren’t bad — but kids don’t need all of them. Connection, creativity, and play matter more than the latest gadget.
Somewhere in the modern parenting handbook (probably buried under Lego sets and a broken Paw Patrol tower), there’s an unwritten rule: good parents provide endless toys. Educational toys. Sensory toys. STEM kits. Wooden Montessori-approved toys. Plastic light-up ones that sing until you lose your mind. But despite the mountain of options, kids always end up playing with… the cardboard box. Let's look at why we fall into the toy trap, what it does to kids, and how to keep joy in play without drowning under plastic chaos.
THE ISSUE
We buy toys with good intentions: to entertain, educate, occupy, and occasionally buy ourselves five minutes of peace. But the avalanche grows quickly. One trip to Target for paper towels somehow adds three “learning” toys. Grandparents treat Amazon like a slot machine: Add to cart. Ship to grandchild. Repeat. And before we realize we fell into the Toy Mountain Syndrome trap:
Birthday parties resemble warehouse deliveries.
Every corner of our home has bins labeled “blocks,” “art,” “puzzles,” and “miscellaneous plastic.”
Our child receives a new toy and spends 3 minutes on it before wandering off.
The“playroom” looks like the aftermath of a toy store explosion.
And despite the mountain, what do kids actually want to play with? A cardboard box. The Tupperware drawer. Our keys. The bubble wrap from a package. It’s enough to make us wonder: did we buy all this for them, or for us?
WHY PARENTS DO THIS
As said, we buy toys with good intentions. But also because of:
Fear of Missing Out (a.k.a. The Montessori Effect). We see ads promising that a certain toy will boost cognitive skills, foster creativity, and set them on a path to Harvard. Who can resist?
Guilt. We work long hours or feel distracted. Toys become a quick way to say, “I care.” A pile of plastic feels like proof of love.
Comparison Culture. Other kids have toy kitchens, Lego robotics, and balance bikes. We feel pressure to “keep up.”
Nostalgia. We buy toys we wish we had as kids. “If only I’d had this chemistry kit, I might have become a scientist instead of someone googling how to fix the dishwasher.”
Marketing Madness. Toys are marketed directly to our anxieties. “Is your child falling behind in math? This singing brown-throated three-toed sloth will fix it.”
The Grandparent Factor. Grandparents who swore they’d never spoil their grandkids now mail weekly toy shipments like they’re running a personal UPS franchise.
It wasn't always the case. Not so long ago (imagine 1980s & 90s):
A few sturdy toys lasted years.
Imaginative play ruled: sticks became wands, cardboard boxes became spaceships.
Birthdays: cake, a couple of gifts, maybe a bike.
Bedrooms were messy, but not overflowing.
Then social media took over the role of parent whisperers, and now:
Playrooms look like Toys “R” Us came back from the dead and exploded.
Toys are marketed as “educational investments.”
Holidays bring 47 gifts, 39 of which are forgotten by February.
Parents curate toy collections like portfolios: Montessori wood here, STEM robotics there, sensory bins in the corner.
We’ve shifted from “a few toys and a lot of imagination” to “a mountain of toys and kids still bored.”
HOW THIS HARMS CHILDREN (AND US)
The flood of toys harms children (and us) in many ways:
Overstimulation. Too many toys overwhelm kids. They flit from one to another, never sinking into deep play.
Shorter Attention Spans. When entertainment is endless, focus shrinks. Kids lose patience for sustained effort.
Entitlement. If toys constantly flow in, kids expect novelty. The thrill of a new toy fades quickly.
Creativity Shrinks. Paradoxically, fewer toys = more imagination. A stick can be anything. A robot toy is always… a robot toy.
Less Gratitude. When “stuff” is abundant, appreciation dwindles. Birthdays become overwhelming, not magical.
Clutter = Stress. Messy playrooms stress parents. Stressed parents snap more. The cycle is toxic.
Environmental Impact. Mountains of plastic that end up in landfills. Not exactly the legacy we want to leave.
AVOIDING THE TRAP
You don’t need to torch the playroom and move to a minimalist commune. The solution is balance: enough toys to inspire, not so many that they bury.
Here are some ideas to scale Toy Mountain without losing your sanity.
1. Rotate, Don’t Accumulate.
Keep a portion of toys out of sight. Every few weeks, swap them. Old toys feel new again. Kids engage longer because they aren’t overstimulated.
2. Limit the Inflow.
Set boundaries with relatives: experiences over toys, books over plastic. Give wish lists. Or simply say, “Our playroom is full — please no extras.”
3. Prioritize Open-Ended Toys.
Blocks, art supplies, dolls, costumes — things that can become many things. The simpler, the better. A box of Legos beats a toy that only makes one sound.
4. Create “Toy-Free” Spaces.
Not every room needs to be a playroom. Having designated areas keeps clutter manageable and restores calm zones.
5. Teach Gratitude.
Involve kids in donating toys. Show them other children enjoy their old things. Gratitude grows when toys aren’t treated as disposable.
6. Embrace Cardboard Boxes (Seriously).
Don’t fight it. Let them play with the packaging. Cardboard boxes are the ultimate open-ended toy: spaceship, cave, restaurant.
7. Focus on Experiences.
Toys break. Memories don’t. Redirect gifting toward zoo trips, museum passes, baking projects, or just time together. Experiences stick far longer than gadgets.
MISTAKES TO AVOID
Equating “more toys” with “better parenting.”
Buying toys to soothe guilt.
Letting marketing dictate purchases.
Ignoring clutter until you snap and declare a playroom apocalypse.
THE PAYOFF
When we tame Toy Mountain, something magical happens: kids rediscover imagination. They play deeper, longer, more creatively. A blanket fort holds their attention longer than ten gadgets.
Also... we breathe easier. Fewer toys = less clutter = less stress. We stop tripping on Legos (which are great toys, indeed, but terribly painful for bare feet) at midnight.
Last but not least, family life shifts: less consumption, more connection.
The best memories won’t come from the mountain of plastic. They’ll come from cardboard-box castles, muddy backyard “soups,” and Lego towers built on rainy afternoons.
Because the true magic of childhood isn’t in the toy. It’s in the play.
© Kristijan Musek Lešnik, 2025
