Like the espistler, Paul, I also put away childish things upon reaching adulthood; but I made sure mine were always easily accessible.
After all, you never know when you might need a G.I. Joe with no pants on, some colorful Lego bits and pieces, and a model ocean liner that belches steam from its funnels if you pour boiling water into the hold. There is also an unidentified small furry object that looks suspiciously like an ancient cube of fudge covered in forty years of lint.
These childish things now reside in a decrepit cardboard box in the coat closet beneath the stairs; "put away" in body, certainly, but as anyone who knows me well can attest, not put away in spirit.
Naturally, I don't pretend threatening the Romans with a trouserless G.I. Joe would have done Paul much good when he faced Caesar's axeman, but it's possible that playing with the Legos might have provided him with some source of escapist distraction during his daring descent via basket from the walls of Damascus.
Trying to look through an old hunk of fudge, however, even darkly, doesn't sound like very much fun no matter how you slice it.