At some point, something will have to be done about the stuffed animals. I haven’t counted them because, truthfully, I’m not prepared to know how many there are. But there are too many: packed into my toddler’s bed, in heaping baskets on the first level of our house, covering the floor of my kindergartner’s room. Then there are the puzzles (14), the assorted plastic toy animals (60-plus), the Legos (10,000, give or take). There’s the trike both my kids have outgrown (one, collecting dust on my porch). The half-broken toys relegated to the basement for eventual “repair” (roughly a dozen, including a cat keyboard that recently started making low, garbled growling sounds; it might be haunted).