My son's toys

I’m learning a lot from my son’s toys.

When something goes hurtling toward the floor, you think it’ll break. It doesn’t. It bounces, ready to go again.

When you think something might need explaining, it doesn’t. He just picks it up and figures it out.

When I look at toys he plays with that were originally my toys when I was little, they still bring joy, still work just fine. I think of all the ‘toys’ that have come and gone while those toys are still dutifully entertaining us. Games, cars, computers, etc. All broken, all gone.

Or the little ‘book’ we found in the pocket of a teddy that was originally mine, where I’d taped some paper together as a child and called it teddy’s book. It’s still there in his pocket today. I think of all the digital notes, and backup systems, that have come after it. All broken, all gone.

Simple, resilient, and durable are not terms we often hear about in design anymore.

Everyone wants the snazziest, fanciest, most sophisticated toys with the most buttons, highest top-speed, and most touch-screens. They think they’re better. They think they’ll last.

My toys - and my son’s toys - beg to differ.