fine when the kids were small. Hand a toddler a big plastic car and he's happy, especially toddlers who don't see television commercials.
But kids grow older and more media savvy as the years pass and they now know what's hot and what's not. And that's the problem. It began with an off-hand comment from my son. We were discussing Santa's bag
of goodies when he said, "Mom, I sure hope Santa brings me something I actually want this year."
"You mean you didn't want that nice potholder loom he brought you last year?" I asked. "And how about all those
lovely stuffed animals?"
He made a face. "Potholders aren't fun, Mom. I'm the only kid in school who got one of those. Well, except for my sister. The other guys got Megadeathclaw Superzoids and I got a
potholder machine and some stuffed birds."
"Chickadees, son. It's a whole family of chickadees," I said. Hummmm...I thought, maybe I should rethink that pile of gifts I've got stashed away. So I got out my list
and reviewed what I'd already bought him:
The Three Bears and Goldilocks action figures, 500-piece Rin Tin Tin jigsaw puzzle, stuffed Holstein cow that really moos when you turn it upside down, decoupage
kit, bongo drums and a complete set of Peter Rabbit stampers. Perhaps he's right. He's a little too old for some of these things. Maybe I should start taking his wish list into account, I thought. So I asked him what he
really wanted for Christmas. And he gave me the typical insightful male response.
"I don't know."
"Well, if Santa was standing here and you could ask him for just one thing, what would it be?" I
prodded. His brow knit in thought.
"Superhardtogettus and Incrediblyexpensive," he said.
In plain adult language, those ugly, overpriced, poorly-made plastic things that change (or morph, as he puts it)
into other things by adding and/or subtracting parts, all based on a really, really dumb TV show that's making its creators rich and parents poor. Well, I for one refuse to get sucked into the commercial vortex
Christmas has morphed...uh, turned into! I'll stand on principle! I won't be done in by those big, pleading blue eyes and trembling lower lip!
"How about a nice pajama bag with a picture of Flipper on it?" I
offered. He shook his head.
"See, I told you, Mom. I'm going to get Play Doh again this year, I just know it."
Oh yeah? Guess he doesn't know that Santa's already slid by and whispered in my ear that
he's managed to locate a Superhardtogettus and he's holding it for us at the North Pole -- right next to that Incrediblyexpensive. Now all I have to do is figure out what I'm going to do with all that
blankety-blank Play Doh I've been stockpiling. Hey, I've got an idea!
Writers have lots of hidden talents: take Hemmingway. Come to think of it he just drank a lot. Forget him and take Fitzgerald. He drank a
lot, too. Forget about both of them. Take my sister -- she looks kind of artistic to me. I'll bet Play Doh would allow her to get in touch with her inner child. And my brother hums sometimes. That's means he's musical,
right? I mean how much talent do you need to play bongo drums? You know, I think this could really work. I wonder if my editor already has all the Three Bears action figures.....
