Nothing like a good cover-up.

I actually like kid's toys. I'm always excited to get to go to people's houses that have kids. especially if i'm babysitting and I know they won't be back for a few hours after the baby has gone to bed. I'll have a few unsupervised hours to pull ALL of the children's toys out and play with them. I could play with the toys with the child, but I don't like sharing. Something about passing a gooey, saliva-covered block back and forth and suffering the disappointment of their uncoordinated limbs flailing about madly in a poor Michael J. Fox impersonation and knocking over my glorious creations tends to turn me off. Alone after bedtime stories, I revel in the glory of new toys, invariably breaking one or two, but quickly shoving as many as possible back in the toy box upon hearing the garage door opening. When the parents enter the room, the key is to switch the tv to CNN (off of either skinemax or cartoons, depending on your mood), and pretend to be asleep in the armchair. whatever toys are still scattered around are obviously just remnants from your horrific evening with their demon spawn, after enduring which you promptly passed out in front of Nancy Grace. Nothing like a good cover-up.