There are certain toys that we don’t exactly welcome with glee and abandon this holiday season. Some fall in the category of obvious, like guns with darts that will most likely end up in my eye, messy craft crap that isn’t worth it, baby toys because Tucker’s delayed, and well, toys that he won’t, and can’t get.
Other than the humiliation that I felt when telling my step mom that, no, Tucker would not appreciate the Highlights Magazine for six to ten-year-olds, even though his cousin would, there are other things I’m hoping Santa doesn’t bring this year.
Three things I don’t want my son to get for Christmas:
- Adipose and other potentially life-threatening explodable stress-toys. Last year, we visited my friend Julie’s house at Christmas. Her daughter, Sadie, had received Adipose, after watching Dr. Who. Tucker fell in love with Adipose on our visit with them, snuggled him, laughed with him, ran with him, and called him Baby.
Of course, months later, when he saw Adipose in a book store, pointed, and said “Baby!” we bought “Baby” for Tucker.
I think Baby lasted four days, before Tucker’s sensory-seeking teeth got the best of him, and Baby exploded white foamstuff everywhere. Because the original box was not labeled “non-toxic,” I called Poison Control (Baby was not toxic). Later, made a donation to them once I realized what a great service that Poison Control is.
- More Legos. At one point, I envisioned adorable shelves in Tucker’s room showcasing assembled garbage and fire trucks, airplanes and helicopters, Superman cities, and robots. Instead, I have three boxes of teenytiny pieces that belong to God-knows which vehicle and all likely have a missing key piece – eaten by the vacuum or swallowed by the couch. We also have a dozen Ziploc bags full of Lego kits that may or may not ever be reassembled. After painstakingly following step-by-step instructions, each creation has crashed, fallen apart or been used as trash for toy garbage cans and trucks. I’m wary of my ability to replicate construction without starting over. Building these things starting at step 52 continually proves too difficult for me. Maybe one day, Tucker will be better at reconstructing them from scratch than we are. In the meantime, I’m hoping Santa doesn’t further add to the collection.
- New Guys. “Guys” (stuffed versions of whatever) are great. Tucker loves his Guys. He loves the ones who live in a bin at the back of the couch. He loves his alligator. He especially loves the ones he sleeps with. Considering that he also sleeps with favorite books, and frighteningly sharp metal airplanes, I’m relieved that he now also includes Bear, Bear Other, Mickey, Frog, Horse, Cat, Lamb, Tennessee Vols Pillow, and Curious George One and Curious George Two in bed. So, while he loves them, I say “enough, already!” I know that one day, I’ll cherish these Guys, and frankly, keeping more than a dozen for all eternity doesn’t match my vision of having a relatively clutter-free retirement. Selfish, I know.
I guess that there are things I’m asking you to not get my son for Christmas. Some of my blog friends feel the same, so we did this fun little carnival thing:
Jean, from Mama Schmama: My child-models deserve the best at Christmas
Katia, from I Am The Milk: The Gift that. JUST. KEEPS. ON. GIVING.
Jen, from My Skewed View: Dear Santa, Please Don’t
Rachel, from Tao of Poop: Santa Employs Sweatshop Labor
Sarah from Left Brain Buddha: Holy Testosterone, Batman! Why Are Superheroes So ANGRY These Days?
Stephanie, from Mommy, For Real: Thanks for Nothing, “American Girls”- Why I Hate American Girls Dolls
Sarah, from The Sadder but Wiser Girl: Flaming Pillow Pets and Other Christmas List Nos
Tell me? What is it that you hope nobody buys your kid this holiday season?