Toys. Every toy known to people, or so it appears anyway. Our granddaughters have a playroom at their home which is full of toys, often making it difficult to navigate the floor with all the small pieces under foot. On a recent visit, I enlisted our oldest granddaughter, Sylvie to help me tidy the room so we could play there. She was dressed in a fairy costume.
"Ah man, I hate doing that," she said as she disappeared around the door.
"Five minutes and we'll be able to play in here," I said in my typical Nan fashion. "Come on now. Two of us will have this done in no time."
She appeared, worked for a few minutes, then left again. I continued to sort the items, depositing them in the bins lining the wall. Before long, only a few items remained.
Sylvie reappeared. "I found it," she said. I stopped to watch as she waved a stick with a star on the tip over the room.
"There," she said. "I just have to wave my magic wand and it's all done."
"Excuse me," I said, rather indignantly. I put my arms around Sylvie and tickled her as we sat on the floor.