
Jenn Landers asked:
Last Christmas my husband and I learned a valuable lesson. It all started one night in August, when our three-year-old daughter was cranky and needy; whining and climbing onto my husband’s lap as he and I were trying to eat dinner. To gain a bit of peace so he could finish his meal, Seth handed her a toy catalog. Let me give you a little history about our children and toys.
I tried to follow the experts’ advice and decided not to allow my children to watch television until after the age of two. It had something to do with their brain development, their educational process, and maybe their brains turning to mush or something. I really don’t recall the exact reason but I know I tried to adhere to the principle. This was until I found myself pregnant again; exhausted with one-year-old and a baby on the way. Suddenly, plugging my daughter into PBS didn’t seem like such bad idea. I justified my changed position by saying that I would not allow either of my children to see television commercials for as long as I could possibly hold out.
They are now four and two years old and I still don’t let them watch programs with commercials. My motivation is purely selfish as I don’t want them asking me for every little thing they see. Listen, a lot of money is made in marketing to children and I don’t feel like dealing with any of that mess. To put it even more simply – the kids have absolutely no idea what they want for gifts because they have no clue what is out there. This makes my job very easy.
Combine my position on television commercials with my ideas about natural, non-toxic toys (another story altogether) and you can understand why starting roughly in July a steady stream of natural toy catalogs starts hitting our mailbox. I spend many autumn nights in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine, a stack of catalogs, and a paper and pen.
Let’s go back to that particular night last August. So, Sarah was being a handful and Seth, to appease her, handed her a catalog and uttered the fateful words that forever changed the way our daughter viewed catalogs. “Sweetie, Mommy and I are eating dinner. Why don’t you sit here with us and look through this toy catalog? You can pick out what you want Santa to bring for Christmas.” Sarah’s eyes lit up with what Seth calls “Christmas magic” and what I call “the light of consumerism”. She carefully turned each page and at about page three she announced, “That’s what I want”. Huh, that was short-lived quiet time. “What is it, Honey?” asked Seth.
It was a doll’s changing table, made entirely of wood, with a darling multi-colored curtain to hide the shelves below. It had a little swing attached, made of the same fabric as the curtain. It was also well over two hundred dollars. I chuckled, knowing which way the conversation was headed and knowing that Seth would end up online that evening, ordering the changing table. “Well, that’s nice and all but what about everything else in the catalog? Can’t you find ANYTHING else you like?”
She was adamant and I was gloating. Sarah took to carrying that catalog everywhere and she, a normally shy and cautious child, told anyone who would listen that Santa was bringing her “a doll changing table with a curtain and a swing and this little place behind the curtain where you can hang doll clothes on little hangers”. The grocery store, my parents’ house, Seth’s father’s house – that catalog even went on vacation with us. Our daughter was fixated. The next door neighbor smirked and warned Seth, “You’d better buy that for her. It’s a bargain compared to the therapy bill you’ll be paying when she’s fifteen and blaming you for everything that ever went wrong in her life!”
That changing table arrived by UPS and it was gorgeous. Yes, it was expensive but it is an heirloom quality toy that Sarah will one day be passing along to her own children. In the meantime, it’s been a changing table, a fort for her dolls, a secret hiding place for her treasures, and occasionally a matchbox car parking garage when she and her little brother play together.
Christmas magic really happened for us last year. I don’t mean that toys are what Christmas is all about, but I feel like we had the sort of Christmas that I remember from my childhood. Sarah wanted that one special toy so badly; none of the stuff she saw in stores or in the catalogs would distract her. She glowed brighter than our Christmas tree when she saw that changing table next to the tree Christmas morning. I glanced over at Seth and saw a proud, happy father who, although he’d been hoodwinked by a three-year-old, had come through and made his daughter’s Christmas dream come true.
Philip Fernandez