It started, as many shifts do, with a feeling. A quiet hum in the back of my mind that something wasn’t working. The livingroom and kids bedrooms overflowed with bins, baskets, and shelves stuffed to the brim. Puzzle pieces that no longer matched, broken bits of plastic things, forgotten birthday gifts still in boxes. Instead of sitting down to play with the anything they’d just dump out the whole bin and keep walking- they were too overwhelmed to engage. We had the dollhouse with a whole box of tiny furniture and clothes, duplos, old party favors and vending machine sticky hands, random bits of hand-me-down clutter. It seemed like my whole life was being spent putting things back in the bin- sorting it into useful groups was just way too much work.
One morning while I made breakfast and got one kid ready, the other one dumped all the toys in the living room and then ran outside. I broke into tears, I was totally overwhelmed with frustration. That afternoon while the kids were out with their grandparents, I boxed up about 80% of it. Besides the stuffies they actually snuggled at night, I left 1 basket of magnatiles, 1 basket of legos, 1 basket of hotwheels and monster trucks and the 2 dolls that I had actually seen being played with (and their clothes) and I boxed up ALL the rest. I put it all in the garage. My goal was to have a 5 minute cleanup- if all the toys got put out it would would only take about 5 minutes to put everything away properly. If it took longer than there was too much.
I told myself I’d wait and see. If they asked for something specific, I’d retrieve it. But something surprising happened: they didn’t.
Instead, they played more.
The Power of Less
At first, I worried I’d made a mistake. Would they be upset? Would they notice? But when they walked in and saw a tidier space and fewer toys, they immediately settled into deeper, more focused play. The magnatiles became towers, then forts. Stuffed animals became families with stories and adventures. Without the noise and clutter, their imaginations stretched farther.
I realized what Nicolette Sowder, founder of Wilder Child, articulates so beautifully in her work: “The child’s soul is nourished by simplicity, by wildness, by the rhythms of nature and connection.”
We had been suffocating their creativity with plastic, with noise, with endless choice. In simplifying their play space, we had handed them back something essential: presence, focus, and freedom.
2 months later I donated the garage boxes to charity without opening them and never looked back. W
How We Made the Shift
Toy minimalism wasn’t about deprivation—it was about intention. We set up some guardrails to keep the stuff from coming back in. Here’s how we approached it:
We removed toys that were broken, incomplete, or overwhelmed the space.
If it required batteries, lit up, or did all the imagining for them, it was the first to go.
We kept open-ended toys.
Building blocks, art supplies, animal figurines, and dress-up items—all things that invited creativity rather than dictated it.
We involved the kids in the long-term conversation.
While the initial declutter was done without them, we now talk together about what toys feel useful, loved, and fun—and which ones are ready to bless another family.
We set boundaries.
One bin of LEGOs. One shelf for art supplies. One drawer for games. When those limits are full, something must go before something new can come in.
We got our loved ones on board.
During holidays and birthdays we asked our friends and relatives to buy experiences in lieu of physical gifts. One year my mother-in-law gifted the kids with swim lessons. Those skills have brought them life saving water safety and 1000’s of hours of fun- a far better return on investment than any little toy.
What We Gained
Letting go of excess toys gave us so much more than a tidy home.
We found peace and clarity in our spaces. The constant overwhelm of “stuff” lifted, and along with it, my stress about cleaning up, organizing, and managing it all.
We gained presence. With fewer distractions, we had more space to be together—really be together. We played Uno at the table, drew silly comics, built forts, and talked.
We saw our kids become more content, more resourceful, more imaginative. They played longer and more deeply. They created games, songs, and stories. They re-discovered the joys of boredom and what lives on the other side of it.
We also began to say “no” more intentionally—to impulse purchases, to gifts for the sake of gifting, to the cultural pressure that childhood should be padded with stuff. Our values became our compass, not the shelves of Target.
Rooted in Nature, Not Plastic
Nicolette Sowder writes, “Encourage your child to have a relationship with nature before they have one with a screen.” That sentiment shaped our post-declutter life in more ways than we expected.
With fewer toys, our kids naturally gravitated outdoors more. Sticks became fishing poles, rocks became treasure, mud became art. They began to see themselves not as consumers, but as creators. As part of something wild and alive.
We aren’t perfect minimalists. Holidays still come with excitement and gifts and as the kids get older they have spending money and we don’t restrict what they spend on. Even for birthdays and holidays we focus on a few intentional things—craft kits, quality art supplies, reading materials and experiences—over piles of plastic.
A Life with Room to Breathe
Minimalist family life isn’t about restriction—it’s about freedom. Freedom from clutter, freedom from decision fatigue, freedom to focus on what matters.
And as parents, it’s not just our homes that need decluttering—it’s our minds. Toy minimalism is an invitation to let go of the “shoulds,” the comparison, the pressure to give our kids more when what they really need is less and deeper.
Less stuff. More nature. Less pressure. More connection. Less noise. More time.
And in that simplicity, we’ve found something truly rich.
One morning while I made breakfast and got one kid ready, the other one dumped all the toys in the living room and then ran outside. I broke into tears, I was totally overwhelmed with frustration. That afternoon while the kids were out with their grandparents, I boxed up about 80% of it. Besides the stuffies they actually snuggled at night, I left 1 basket of magnatiles, 1 basket of legos, 1 basket of hotwheels and monster trucks and the 2 dolls that I had actually seen being played with (and their clothes) and I boxed up ALL the rest. I put it all in the garage. My goal was to have a 5 minute cleanup- if all the toys got put out it would would only take about 5 minutes to put everything away properly. If it took longer than there was too much.
I told myself I’d wait and see. If they asked for something specific, I’d retrieve it. But something surprising happened: they didn’t.
Instead, they played more.
The Power of Less
At first, I worried I’d made a mistake. Would they be upset? Would they notice? But when they walked in and saw a tidier space and fewer toys, they immediately settled into deeper, more focused play. The magnatiles became towers, then forts. Stuffed animals became families with stories and adventures. Without the noise and clutter, their imaginations stretched farther.
I realized what Nicolette Sowder, founder of Wilder Child, articulates so beautifully in her work: “The child’s soul is nourished by simplicity, by wildness, by the rhythms of nature and connection.”
We had been suffocating their creativity with plastic, with noise, with endless choice. In simplifying their play space, we had handed them back something essential: presence, focus, and freedom.
2 months later I donated the garage boxes to charity without opening them and never looked back. W
How We Made the Shift
Toy minimalism wasn’t about deprivation—it was about intention. We set up some guardrails to keep the stuff from coming back in. Here’s how we approached it:
We removed toys that were broken, incomplete, or overwhelmed the space.
If it required batteries, lit up, or did all the imagining for them, it was the first to go.
We kept open-ended toys.
Building blocks, art supplies, animal figurines, and dress-up items—all things that invited creativity rather than dictated it.
We involved the kids in the long-term conversation.
While the initial declutter was done without them, we now talk together about what toys feel useful, loved, and fun—and which ones are ready to bless another family.
We set boundaries.
One bin of LEGOs. One shelf for art supplies. One drawer for games. When those limits are full, something must go before something new can come in.
We got our loved ones on board.
During holidays and birthdays we asked our friends and relatives to buy experiences in lieu of physical gifts. One year my mother-in-law gifted the kids with swim lessons. Those skills have brought them life saving water safety and 1000’s of hours of fun- a far better return on investment than any little toy.
What We Gained
Letting go of excess toys gave us so much more than a tidy home.
We found peace and clarity in our spaces. The constant overwhelm of “stuff” lifted, and along with it, my stress about cleaning up, organizing, and managing it all.
We gained presence. With fewer distractions, we had more space to be together—really be together. We played Uno at the table, drew silly comics, built forts, and talked.
We saw our kids become more content, more resourceful, more imaginative. They played longer and more deeply. They created games, songs, and stories. They re-discovered the joys of boredom and what lives on the other side of it.
We also began to say “no” more intentionally—to impulse purchases, to gifts for the sake of gifting, to the cultural pressure that childhood should be padded with stuff. Our values became our compass, not the shelves of Target.
Rooted in Nature, Not Plastic
Nicolette Sowder writes, “Encourage your child to have a relationship with nature before they have one with a screen.” That sentiment shaped our post-declutter life in more ways than we expected.
With fewer toys, our kids naturally gravitated outdoors more. Sticks became fishing poles, rocks became treasure, mud became art. They began to see themselves not as consumers, but as creators. As part of something wild and alive.
We aren’t perfect minimalists. Holidays still come with excitement and gifts and as the kids get older they have spending money and we don’t restrict what they spend on. Even for birthdays and holidays we focus on a few intentional things—craft kits, quality art supplies, reading materials and experiences—over piles of plastic.
A Life with Room to Breathe
Minimalist family life isn’t about restriction—it’s about freedom. Freedom from clutter, freedom from decision fatigue, freedom to focus on what matters.
And as parents, it’s not just our homes that need decluttering—it’s our minds. Toy minimalism is an invitation to let go of the “shoulds,” the comparison, the pressure to give our kids more when what they really need is less and deeper.
Less stuff. More nature. Less pressure. More connection. Less noise. More time.
And in that simplicity, we’ve found something truly rich.
