So the holidays are around the corner and I thought I’d do a snobby “what gifts not to buy my kids ever” type post.
Like when my 2 year old gets a gift that is for ages 10 and up. “Um, thanks for this great gift that I have to store for eight years.”
Or gifts that are so huge they take up my entire living room. “Um, thanks for this great gift but we had to move our coffee table into the garage.”
Because really, it is all about me. Not the kids. When people buy them gifts they aren’t thinking about whether or not the kids will like them. They are just trying to annoy me.
But doing a complainy post like that will just bring people out of the woodwork who will say things like “you should feel fortunate that you can be so picky with toys because some people have to give their kids rocks and sticks” and that will just frustrate me. Because I’d rather give my children rocks and sticks than the toys I was going to complain about. Tongue-in-cheek, people. Relax.
Anyway, I already complained about toys. So I scrapped the idea and instead, I’m just going to talk about one special toy…
The infamous Fisher-Price Dog that everyone with a child under three should have stashed in a closet by now.
We got ours two years ago as a “Congrats on the New Crappy Baby” gift from someone. This means ours is one of the first-generation ones that don’t move. (I understand that the newer versions walk and come with a machete.)
My first impression is that it looks benign.
It starts with the usual stuff “Congrats on the baby!” but then it says something else too.
It says this:
Now if you are so annoyed with a toy that you have to remove the batteries what on earth makes you think I would want this thing making noise in my home?
Once the batteries were engaged it did this:
Truth is, I’ve never trusted toys that talk and “interact” with you. I’ve always thought they were creepy. Probably from growing up watching that Living Doll episode of The Twilight Zone, one of my favorites.
I can’t have this thing stabbing me in my sleep.
So the dog is sent to the car to live. Forever.
I use it to bribe Crappy Baby since he hates his car seat. “Get in the car seat, you get the dog. Do we have a deal?”
The dog is like an old friend they suddenly remember exists every time they ride in the car.
The thing is, like my battery dislodging friend alluded to, this dog is sensitive. It starts chattering and singing and giggling from each and every bump in the road.
Even when I’m driving alone in the car. That doesn’t happen very often.
But last Friday I found myself driving alone in the car for a little over two hours. With no music. My phone just got replaced and I haven’t loaded any music on it yet. The radio was playing nothing but shouty and angry “GET THE BEST DEAL EVER!!” ads so I turned it off.
It was just me.
Well, just me and the dog. The dog who wouldn’t stop trying to make conversation.
So I did what any person stuck in rush hour traffic would do.
So thank you for the Fisher-Price™ dog. No really! After two years of fear, I kinda like him now.
But he still isn’t coming inside my house.
December 2013 update: He’s been donated! And honestly, I WAS a little sad when they chose to put him in the donate pile. A little.