Baby toys are pretty durable. If Toyota made cars as durable as baby toys, there would be no reason to worry that your car might decide to rocket down a side street. You could simply steer it into the nearest brick wall. That’s why, when I’m cleaning up the boys’ play area, I just throw the toys into the toy chest. Sometimes, from across the room. And sometimes, I bank them off the wall. Or the ceiling fan.

My wife doesn’t like it when I do this, however, and now she’s completely justified. This weekend, the boys started throwing their toys around. They thought it was hysterical. A little bear with wheels and a mini fire engine, both meant for rolling along the floor, spent most of Saturday and Sunday airborne amid a chorus of giggles and one “thunk” as the wheeled bear came down on Wyatt’s head. He wasn’t fazed.

I should have expected this. Babies mimic behavior. It’s how they learn. Soon, I’m sure I’ll see Wyatt popping Excedrin for breakfast and Boone grumbling about he doesn’t have time to read the paper anymore.