“I remember as a child, the sense of wonderment that the toy hospital had instilled in me. How did a broken toy get mended? How could that mended toy be newer than it had been when I’d destroyed it?”
“The mystery was as profound and magical to me as all of those tales of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. The Tooth Fairy had frightened me as a child, that much was certain. It was all of that sneaking around in a boy’s bedroom when he’s asleep; and swapping teeth for cash, cold hard cash to spend on more sweets to get more bad teeth? The cycle seemed endless, as did the nightmares. The questions that no one could seem to answer were: Where did the teeth go? What did the fairy use them for, and why? ”
“Toys, as a child were the world away from television, a playground for the soul, an escape from rules, doctrine and routine. Any boy plays roughly with his toys; we have this unquenchable lust for destruction you see. Cars would collide and crash, towers of blocks would rain to the carpet as trucks smashed through them. The towers would grow ever taller, until cars or trucks, sometimes even dinosaurs, would crash into them; sending pieces clattering around the carpet in chaos. Not to say that I was a particularly destructive child, just a normal boy really”.
“Of course, toys frequently became damaged and as upsetting as this was at first; it quickly became embroiled in mystery, because the toys always came back from hospital better than new.”