The Life-Cycle Of A Toy

Where it came from is a mystery like the virgin birth. A teacher unlocks a cabinet one day and brings it out, a special thing to be carefully locked away again when the play period ends. The children delight every time they see it. They know it's a rare privilege that must be savored. They regard it as grown-ups do a fine wine They begin to clamor for it daily. After awhile it starts to appear more often. One day at clean-up time, eluding the teacher's eye, it gets dumped in a crate with the general run of toys. Thereafter it's no longer kept under lock and key — as though once out a whole night, it's lost its pedigree. The toy seems to thrive, though, seemingly tired of elitism, longing to know the common life. But soon the children start to take it for granted. They grow tired of its giving them the same, predictable essence day after day. They want to extract from their toy some new thrill. They want a bicycle that can have a sweet taste, They want a ball they can climb through. They do everything they can to expand its use — throwing it, jumping on it, bending it unnaturally. A crash dummy at a test site is not more endangered. 'Unbreakable' parts begin to snap. Handles wear off. Finally, the toy is simply an object of abuse, left outside every night in cold and rain. Even the teachers ignore it, as if they're just waiting for it to die. One day a teacher walking past it stops, realizes that it's become more of a danger than a joy, lifts it over to the other side of the fence, where it can await a trip to the dumpster, the mercy killing complete.