Someone's not playing nicely in the sandbox, and it's not little kids this time.

The City of Raleigh is worried about a perceived overabundance of toys in Roanoke Park in Five Points and Pollock Place Park in the University Park neighborhood, situated between Wade Avenue and Hillsborough Street and, as luck may have it, behind my house.

There’s no need for a swingset at home when there’s a park right around the corner. And what is particularly great about my particular park – and Roanoke Park too – is the way the surrounding community has supplemented the city-installed play structures with their gently used and no longer needed toys. Think Little Tikes cars and basketball hoops, baby walkers and soccer balls and a sandbox full of shovels, sifters and dumptrucks.

It’s a kid’s dream.

But now it’s time to wake up.

In August, the toys were removed, ostensibly to protect the children.

Wayne Schindler, the city’s parks superintendent, said this all came about after citizens and staffers who maintain the playgrounds raised concerns. Staff I can understand -- to an extent. But citizens? What citizens? All I’ve heard from them is outrage and disappointment.

The main issue, Schindler explained, is that the playgrounds’ permanent structures need clear “fall zones” to make sure no one gets hurt. That’s according to the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Council guidelines for public playgrounds.

But in this case, those federal guidelines are trumping common sense.

“It is very hard to explain to a 2-year-old that a plastic truck that he loves was taken away from the park because it was too dangerous for him,” said Laura Zelinski in a document that defenders of the Roanoke Park toy tradition presented at a meeting last month attended by Schindler and City Council members Rodger Koopman and Russ Stephenson.

If we were playing charades – and I suppose that would be allowed at either park since it involves no sketchy infrastructure – someone would have to act out what feels like just another case of officials legislating for the sake of legislating.

At least at Pollock Place Park, parents and caregivers pretty much took responsibility for ditching any toys that no longer worked or had exposed sharp edges.

If a pushcar lurked beneath the zipline, parents could shove it out of the way.

They made judgment calls about what their kids could play with and what they couldn’t. Those judgment calls were no different than the judgment calls parents make every day regarding a million other issues.

The city is worried about public safety and legal liability. I’m worried about taking the joy out of childhood.

I don’t mean to sound callous to safety concerns. I kept all three of my kids facing backwards in their carseats far past the one-year mark. We live on a busy neighborhood street, and I’ve drilled into my children that no matter how much they love the ball that’s rolled into the street, they are never to chase after it.

But it’s my opinion that parents or caregivers can and should be tasked with making sure their children are playing safely.

The city points out that loose toys are easy to trip over.

You don’t need to tell me that.

I routinely dodge a domestic hodgepodge of baby rattles, elaborately constructed pillow castles and upended laundry baskets doubling as gymnastics equipment.

The emphasis is on the word “dodge.”

If there are toys scattered about, kids are pretty adept at either playing with them or maneuvering around them.

If the city really wanted to make a statement about child safety on playgrounds, they’d fence in the parks’ perimeter. I’ve seen numerous kids make a dash for the street only to be scooped up at the last minute by a breathless mom.

This feels like a case of the city not seeing the forest for the trees, er, toys.

Luckily, some persistent parents have decided to dig in. An agreement that has been drafted allows for specific areas where kids can play with toys.

The agreement faces scrutiny from the Public Works committee and the City Council. If it gets the green light, Schindler said, “then we will draft a policy on how toy play might occur at other park locations.”

Toy play? That sounds so scripted.

I still remember the terror on my mother’s face when she got a call that my brother had fallen from the slide at preschool and needed stitches. It was the kind of slide that many of us recall from our childhood, those towering, silvery inclines reached only by the steepest of metal steps.

Those were dangerous.

A few lovingly donated Cozy Coupes are not.

Bonnie appears Mondays on TriangleMom2Mom.