In a moment of horrendous judgement, we bought some replacement PixOs for Maggie yesterday. Since we had invested in the original kit, it only made sense to buy more so she could keep using it. Right? Ha, don’t answer that.
Not familiar with PixOs? They are tiny, over-priced pieces of PVC made-in-China bullshit. Yet according to the bright packaging, they are the greatest thing ever.
So after one false start this morning, (washing the colors off from the last time we used it because it didn’t work right) we finally got her going on her project. You know, the project that she can do all by herself while I am doing all the things I need to do by myself? Yeah, that project.
And then came the crash.
She was putting them away and tripped. With the whole container of teeny, tiny, little balls of crap. And it not only spilled, (because the locking lid apparently doesn’t work) it scattered. It multiplied and then it scattered. Across the floor, into the toy closet, into the box of dominoes, into the box of legos, into the box of trains. EVERYWHERE.
They look soft. You may think because they look so soft, that they wouldn’t hurt to step on. You would be wrong. They have little souls of hate and poison that feel like you’re stepping on a nail.
So after we dried the tears, hers, not mine (though I wasn’t too far behind) we commenced PixOs cleanup. I can’t think of many things more frustrating than crawling around on the floor, trying not to step or kneel on the little monsters.
About midway through the cleanup, I heard my son say “Pee pee on the potty!”
Except he was a tad late in his exclamation. So I got to clean up some bodily fluids and then get back to cleaning up PixOs. I’m such a lucky girl.
By the time I got back to help Maggie, there were fresh tears. She had knocked over the half that we had already picked up and they whole thing spilled again. At this point I burst out laughing. Because seriously, I paid money for these!
We managed to get the majority of (I kid you not, as I typed that last phrase, my son just peed again on the floor, and we are now out of paper towels) the PixOs cleaned up. I KNOW we will be finding those little fu@kers for months to come. Maggie spent the next half hour sorting half of them by color back into the tray, before she declared she needed a break. Sorting them by color was a far better learning experience than using them as they are intended to be used.
I hope the marketers of toys like PixOs have a special corner in hell where it’s extra hot.