Today, I want to share my own story instead of introducing the products from my store — just simply talk about my own experience about why I started my own business and why I chose wooden toys instead of other more profitable options.
As a former project manager working in Chinese manufacturing with years of experience attending international conventions, I've participated in many projects — from small crowdfunding projects with only 100 backers to Kickstarter projects that got funded successfully in just 3 hours and eventually gathered over $300k. It's an honor to be part of the successful stories of my clients, but I want to talk about something from the inside, from a maker's perspective.
Some of my existing clients already knew that I used to make custom toys — not just board games but all sorts of game-related components, such as classic meeples, wooden cheese, plastic miniatures, even metal items. Thanks to my ex-company, I've gathered a lot of experience as a manufacturer, learning a lot about dealing with suppliers and witnessing how a project comes to life from a sketch on paper and eventually becomes a real product on the shelf. It's truly an amazing experience that few other industries could ever offer.
However, because of this, I've also seen some facts that people don't want to share publicly as makers — not only safety concerns, but from a more realistic perspective: project margin management. To be honest, the game and toy industry has changed a lot, which is basically like upside down. We used to talk about orders directly from well-known brands and never needed to worry about order volume and margins before COVID came. Now, even the well-known brands are considering decreasing order quantity for their new projects, which limits their decisions regarding choosing material options. For example, a well-known dice distributor I worked with for years only used to consider custom metal dice, and now he has to consider resin or wooden dice as a potential option simply because its tooling cost and molding cost is cheaper and more affordable for testing new markets.
As we all know, the market is going down and it's challenging for new business owners to start their own businesses. I started thinking about alternatives — how to help them start new projects in a more affordable and safe way.
That's the beginning of my idea.
But the real story? It starts with my son. And before that, it starts with my father.
Our Story — How It All Started
My father was a carpenter, who used to produce furniture and small items. Not the fancy kind you see on design magazines or Pinterest — the old-school real deal. Calloused hands. Sawdust in his clothes. Back when I was 3 years old, I always remember the small workshop behind our house that always smelled of pine and lacquer, not to mention the noise of polishing and dust.
As a kid, I would sit on a wooden stool watching him work. He'd transform raw timber into furniture, doors, sometimes — when I was lucky — small toys for me. A wooden car. A spinning top. A simple wooden puzzle. Nothing fancy. But I still have them. They still work, just getting patina after years of exposure to air and sun, which makes them look even better with age.
When my son was born and learned how to climb, I wanted him to have that same experience. Toys that felt real in his hands. Toys with weight, texture, warmth. Toys that wouldn't break after being thrown once or lose their color after a few months.
So I started making toys for him.
Not because I had a business plan. Not because I wanted to sell them. Just because I wanted him to have something I could be proud of.
Thanks to my job, I could get new toy samples so easily — and used that as an excuse to "playtest" for the client when explaining to my boss, haha. The first toy I made him was a set of wooden meeples. Simple shape, sanded smooth. I used beeswax to finish them, and stuck a printed sticker of himself onto them. Everything made by my own hands using non-toxic materials, the kind of stuff you can feel good about. He was only 8 months then. He's three now. Those meeples? Still his favorite and placed on his tiny shelf.
Funny thing is — I wasn't planning to sell them.
But then other parents at the playground started asking. They'd see him playing with the meeples, pretending the meeple is himself flying, and ask: "Where did you get those?" When I said "I made them," the response was always the same: "You made those? Can you make some for us too? I could pay you."
At first I said no. I had a full-time job and I was busy enough fulfilling quotes and handling clients. But the requests kept coming. Starting from neighbors. Friends. Friends of friends by introducing them.
Eventually I thought: maybe there's a demand for something real. Something made with care, not mass-produced overseas. Something a parent can feel safe about giving their child.
That's how Wooden Toy Story began. Not from a spreadsheet. Not from a marketing strategy. From a father who wanted to make something good for his child — and discovered other parents wanted the same.
What I've Seen Behind the Scenes
After years working in manufacturing like managing board game projects, dealing with different suppliers, overseeing production — I thought I knew how toys were made.
I was wrong. What I learned behind the scenes changed everything.
The lifespan difference
Most mass-market toys today are made from plastic. Why? Because plastic is cheap. Fast. Easy to mold. A plastic toy can be injection-molded in seconds, packaged, shipped for a fraction of the cost of a wooden toy. Your largest investment is the steel mold itself, which costs around $2,000-3,000 — easily covered if you produce enough units.
But here's what manufacturers don't like to talk about: plastic toys are designed to be disposable. And honestly, we don't want to see a toy that's too durable — it's not good for business. Simple logic: the more durable the toy, the less likely clients will reorder.
I've seen the production specs when the engineering team is evaluating. The expected lifespan of a typical plastic toy? Often less than two years. The plastic cracks. The paint peels. The mechanism fails. Then? Into the trash. Parents have to buy something new. More likely, the child grows up and gets tired of these old toys, and they end up dusty on a shelf.
Wooden toys, when made properly, last decades. I've seen wooden toys from the 1980s still in perfect condition at classic toy conventions — passed down from grandparent to parent to child. That's not nostalgia. That's engineering and the art of material. Wood doesn't crack easily the way plastic does. It doesn't become brittle in sunlight. And when it shows wear? Sand it down, refinish it. Good as new.
A wooden toy isn't a purchase. It's an heirloom.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Wooden toys cost more. Let me address that directly.
Yes, wooden toys cost more than plastic alternatives. Typically about 3 times the price. But here's the math most parents don't consider: a typical plastic toy lasts less than two years before it cracks, fades, or simply gets forgotten. A well-made wooden toy? 10 years. Maybe even more. My son is still playing with the meeples I made him when he got them at 8 months old. He'll probably pass them down to his own kids someday.
What I've seen in factories
Here's something uncomfortable.
When I was working as a PM, I saw things that made me rethink everything.
One example: A budget-limited client wanted a competitive price for their new custom PVC component. They thought our price was too expensive and said a competitor suggested using cheaper paint instead of traditional painting materials — something with higher VOC content. "Don't worry," they said. "Just let it air out for a week and spray some fragrance to cover the smell before shipping." The customer asked why we couldn't offer the same price so they could close the deal with us.
The fragrance masked the smell. It didn't remove the chemicals. When we think about these toys being chewed by a teething baby, exposed to a child's skin — that feeling makes us sick. We decided to stop negotiating with this customer and just let the deal go. We probably couldn't win anyway. You can never beat an enemy without limits, right?
The Design Question
When I worked with many talented designers coming up with their new projects, I noticed something: most designers start with a simple question — what do we want the child to do?
The toy tells the child: press this button, insert the shape, watch it dance. Everything is scripted. The toy does the thinking. The child just reacts.
It feels like treating kids like pre-programmed machines, not real human beings with imagination.
When I started designing toys for my own son, I asked a different question instead. Does this toy tell the child how to play? Or does the child decide?
That one question changed everything. That's how I discovered the concept of open-ended play.
A Quick Word About Montessori
Here, I want to briefly introduce Montessori. I know the term gets thrown around a lot nowadays — some parents think it's just a marketing thing to sell more products at higher prices.
To be honest, from my experience as a dad and a maker, Montessori education only talks about one thing at its core: teach your child how to play in an open-ended way.
Let's recall our own childhood. When we played with toys, we didn't have any purpose or fixed solution. We could play in many different ways.
A plastic toy car is just a car. It goes forward, makes some noise, maybe flashes lights. That's how it works and that's exactly how it's designed to work.
But a set of wooden blocks? It can be a car. A phone. A building. A paintable cube. The child's imagination defines its purpose. There's no limit to what it can become.
In Montessori classrooms, kids spend hours with simple wooden materials — blocks, puzzles, cylinders. Not because they're simple or plain, but because these materials let the child create. The child becomes the inventor, not the consumer.
What This Means in Practice
When I work with clients on custom toy designs, I often ask questions during video calls. These questions have become my litmus test:
- What can this toy become as the child grows?
- Does this design limit imagination, or expand it?
- Will the kid still want this in six months? A year? Five years?
Some clients push back. They want more features, more functions, more "value" to justify the price. But here's what I've learned from years in this industry: more features often means less play value in the long run.
A toy with ten functions is a toy that does the thinking for the child. A toy with one simple function is a toy that invites the child to think.
The Too-Much-Design Problem
In manufacturing, I see this all the time. Over-designed toys. Lights, sounds, buttons, mechanical gimmicks.
Kids love them at first — the novelty catches their attention. Then a week later? Forgotten in a corner, buried under other toys.
Why does this happen? The toy did all the work. There was nothing left to discover for the child.
Wooden toys with Montessori principles work differently. They start simple. The complexity emerges from the child's interaction. And more importantly, from the participation of parents. Let me be honest with you: no matter how expensive or how well-designed the toys are, without the guidance and involvement of parents, they will basically end up sitting on a shelf collecting dust.
Wooden toys have no instructions. No batteries. No screens. Yet kids play with them for years, constantly finding new ways to use them.
That's not a bug. That's the design.
What I Want You to Take Away
Here's what matters most to me, and I'd like to share it with you:
When you pick a toy for your child, ask yourself three questions:
First, does this toy let my child think, or does the toy do the thinking instead?
Second, will this toy still be interesting in a year? In 5 years?
Third, if this breaks, will I feel bad throwing it away?
If you can answer those honestly, you'll start to see toys differently.
I'm not here to tell you that wooden toys are the only choice. I'm here to tell you what I've learned — as a maker, as a father, as someone who's seen how toys are really made in factories.
The best toy isn't the most expensive one. It's the one that fits your child. The one that grows with them. The one you won't mind keeping in the family, passing down to the next generation.
That's why I make wooden toys. That's why every toy I sell was made for my own child first.
What was your favorite toy as a child? Is it still around?
I’d love to hear your story in the comments below. Or better yet, if you have a memory of a toy that’s been passed down in your family, or even a question about how to choose the safest materials for your own child, send me an email at tom@woodentoystory.com.
I know most founders hide behind automated replies, but that’s not how we do things here. Whether it's a question about wood types or just sharing a parenting moment, I personally read and reply to every single email.
