WISHING FOR A DO-OVER
A friend, pregnant with her first child, asked what I’d do differently if I could go back and change something about my daughter’s childhood.
Later, when reflecting on my answer, I realized it had been lame. I’ll spare you the details, but it was more suitable for a Hallmark card than as honest advice.
It wasn’t until reading about the massive Chinese toy recalls that I realized what it was that I would revise.
If I had my daughter’s childhood to do over again, I’d change the toys.
I suspect Celeste accumulated more toys in her first year or two than children of previous generations received in a lifetime. Few toys had a chance to be as special as they were quickly being replaced by something newer, softer, or with more bells and whistles.
We never showered her with gifts, but she seemed to get a new toy at every turn. She’d order a kid’s meal at a restaurant and get a new toy. Visit the dentist and get a treasure box treat. Have no violations at school for a week and win her pick from the class bootie box. Even at birthday parties where she wasn’t the guest of honor, she’d get loads of loot in a goody bag.
But most of all, each Christmas she would receive more toys than any child has a right to. Grandparents, neighbors, friends, classmates, cousins. There weren’t many toy-age children in our families then, so everyone went too far.
All for a child who was never much into toys.
So if I was going to attempt advice for a new parent, I’d suggest finding a way to pre-empt the toys. Most every parent has a story about their child having more fun with the box a toy came in than the actual toy. A big empty box invites imagination. It doesn’t need color or flashing lights or annoying sound effects to become an immediate favorite.
That’s what I wish I’d done better—not allowed the toys that operated on batteries and only allowed the toys that operated on imagination. As children, brother and I were big into Legos, building houses and castles and forts. The possibilities were endless. Legos are still around, only now they’re usually packaged in sets, with pieces to build one specific thing—a passenger plane, Hogwarts castle, the Batmobile. No imagination required. Just follow instructions.
Instead of toys, though, Kurt and I mostly played outside with our friends. You know, we’d toss them around or stack them like cord wood. That sort of thing. Other times, we’d play with our friends more like normal kids do, building dams in the creek, catching crawdads, riding bikes. We’d hang out in our tree house or play kickball or tag football or croquet or spotlight.
Feeling nostalgic, I decided to email a few friends about their favorite childhood toys and was surprised to find that nearly all mentioned a version of the same thing somewhere on their list.
My friend Lisa Skeens’ list included some of my own favorites–Spiro-graph, Klackers, Troll dolls, and Lite-Brite. I’d so loved Lite Brite that I bought one for my daughter a few years ago. After a short time with the cheaply made new version, she asked, “Is this all it does?” Even a child as imaginative as mine wasn’t impressed with a toy unless it does everything for them.
But Lisa’s list also included, “Mostly, we played outside. Hide and seek, kick the can, catching fireflies, playing fort, catching salamanders in the creek behind our house.”
My childhood across-the-street neighbor, Gale Harman, wrote that he still has and plays with his favorite old toy all the time (read into that what you will), but his other favorites included an AFX race track and cars and trucks. “But we usually just played outside.”
My mom said it best, “After thinking about it, my favorite toys were other kids. My brother and sisters and neighbor kids. I didn’t have a favorite toy, and come to think of it, we didn’t even have a toy box. We played jacks, hopscotch, kick the can, a game called fudge. Boys liked playing marbles and a game with pen knives called mumblety peg. We played in creeks, catching crayfish and salamanders. We put on little skits in Norma’s garage that we wrote and acted in, with a curtain made from old bedspreads. We played outside so much more than kids today.”
On Celeste’s second day of school, her fifth grade teacher assigned homework. “Play outside.” Although I had a million other things I needed to do, I take this homework business seriously, so I went outside with her to help.
By giving our children everything, we make certain that nothing is special. There’s too much—too much stimulation, too much distraction. We cheat them out of having to entertain themselves with simplicity and imagination, and we cheat them out of experiencing the three best toys of all. Friends, imagination, and outside.
Good website for old toys (some for sale, some just to rekindle memories).
Looking for toys that are made in theUSA toys? Try these links.
www.ShopForAmerica.com, www.ZebulonUSA.com, www.usmadetoys.com, www.unclegoosetoys.com, www.holgatetoy.com, www.maplelandmark.com
September 3rd, 2007 at 8:55 pm
Terrific points you’ve made, Karin. Big thumbs-up from me! This is a subject near and dear to my heart, as you may already know from one of my WYOCs. My kids love Lincoln Logs as much as they love their Nintendo DS and I think that is because we didn’t allow them to have electronic games for a very long time. Long after my daughter’s friends began toting around their handheld games, she was still perfectly content with paper, crayons, glue and anything else she could use to ‘create’. We taught them the power of the imagination first because we know that it can serve them well for many years to come.
Wonderful pics of Celeste, too! Thanks for sharing them with us. : )
September 7th, 2007 at 8:20 am
OMG!! We have that exact set of lincoln logs at my parents’ camp (and the container is marred in almost the same way). At my great grandparents’ home (where we’d spend nearly every Sunday afternoon), there was a huge paper grocery bag (or two) of REALLY OLD lincoln logs that would keep me occupied for hours.