This divided us along lines that didn’t involve the unit at all. They involved what kind of person cleans their stuff before bed and what kind of person doesn’t. One side views the empty space they create at day’s end as a tiny triumph, cubes pushed in, lids down, the living room momentarily purged of any evidence that people younger than 30 live here. The others pass by said unit at 11pm, step over the lone dinosaur that wasn’t quite reachable and head to bed with little argument because if the dinosaur is there in the morning, obviously they’ll still be there too.
We all agree it didn’t cause this division. It simply rendered it concrete. And that’s worse.
Across both factions, we will agree it stores approximately three-quarters of our children’s plastic crap and it really shouldn’t be capable of fitting that amount of stuff in what is ostensibly such a small amount of furniture, and yet it does.
Every.Single.Time.
It’s like the inside of it works on a completely different set of physics to the rest of the universe.
One of the cubes won’t close properly because Rasta the Elephant really isn’t having any of it and is too big to be squashed down flat, and we’ve all accepted that except for the one person who continues to shove despite the creaturely uprising that ensues every.single.time, purely for reasons.
The height turned out to matter more than anyone anticipated pre-purchase. Your average three-year-old can reach the highest shelf without dragging a chair across the newly-lino-ed floor. DON’T TELL US HOW GREAT YOU ARE CHILD, WE KNOW. But seriously, it saves steps. Literally and figuratively. Less climbing done by tiny people. Less strain on us lifting them up to do same. Which means, touch wood, less trips to A&E. Nothing.NOTHING.
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We’re also split on the open shelf vs cupboard debate, which is entirely separate from the tidy vs leave-it truce. Some of us can’t bear not being able to see everything, else things get forgotten/lost/lost forever at the back. Others of us want doors. Actual doors.
Because otherwise a wall of openly displayed toys quickly begins to resemble … a shop display?
And nobody wants that kind of vibe dominating their lounge by December.
We’ve had it three winters now.
Moved it house with stairs involved once in a rush with a hired van. It also survived a freak felt tip attack on one of the side panels, which we’ve unanimously agreed gives it character rather than admitting our children should never have been allowed near the white one. Did we mention the drawer runners are metal? SO MANY OF US OWNED THE PLASTIC ONES AND WATCHED THEM EXPLODE under the literal and metaphorical weight of so much Lego and swearing.
We don’t all agree on how tidy our home should be at any given point of the day. But we do all agree that the unit is here to stay, probably forever. If everything in our house fucking muttered at us every time we walked past how little it was being used to its full potential, we’d all move out and live in cardboard boxes. Except the toddler. He’d just destroy the boxes.
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