Ahhh, childhood. That blissful time when calories didn't matter, pigtails were "in" and hair care consisted of Pert shampoo and a comb. Potbellies were proudly poked out of Super Girl Underoos and a grape mustache was proof positive that summer was here. Your bike was your car and you drove it everywhere. Mom forced you out of the house, and didn't care where you were, as long as you came back before the street lights went on. You were loud and tacky and unashamed.
I am fortunate. Fortunate that I have such childhood memories to hold on to. Fortunate now that I have an 18 month-old niece to relive those memories through. I always try to show her how much fun life can be and I'm jealous for her giggles and squeals and cutie-cute innocence... 'Cuz she'll be smoking before I know it.
She loooooves Elmo. And Pooh. And Dora the Explorer. And virtually any fuzzy animal, real or imagined. All the paraphernalia we rake into my sister's house for the sole enjoyment of this little one got me thinking. About toys.
Toys are the center of the kid universe. They are security, community, entertainment, company, rivalry. But most of all they are fun. As adults, we morph that concept into various other things -- cars, electronics, makeup, clothes, shoes, purses... earrings... the mall... that cute little dress at Ann Taylor that's finally on sale...
Oh, uh, sorry. Where was I? Toys... yeah.
My childhood toy preferences were a nice cross-section of interests. I have a huge bucket of Hot Wheels still lurking in a back closet at my parents' house; still have my He-Man and Skeletor figures that have the "rolling punch" cylinders in the middles of their chests. I also have some original Star Wars figures; Luke, Obi-Wan, R2D2, Leia as the Bounty Hunter, C3PO in pieces (complete with net sack to be heaved by Chewy), and Yoda. I have some She-Ra stuff with Catra and the Horse (what was his name? Spirit or something?); Legos, Barbies, My Little Pony, Transformers, Strawberry Shortcake, board games, and the like.
My most treasured items are the dolls my grandmother made for us growing up. At the time, I didn't appreciate them as much as their plastic, mass-produced counterparts (read: inferiors), but today they are priceless -- especially since her passing in 2003.
All in all, I was a well taken-care-of child. We had the basics and some fairly nice perks. I thank my parents that they didn't buy us everything and spoil us beyond repair. Now. When I was a kid, it was a much different story. So allow me to entertain my inner spoiled brat: if I could ask Santa for a list of childhood toys denied, what would it be? (And you do-gooders: This is no time for moral high-horsing. This is called harmless fun, 'kay? You need some, trust me.)
1) The Easy Bake Oven:
Yeah, I've heard it was actually a sub-par toy, but don't flaunt a dessert making factory in front of a fat kid and expect her to take it. Sorry.
2) The Snoopy Snow Cone Machine:
This just looked like way too much fun. And the commercials had me convinced that not only would I have endless access to proported icy sweet fun, but also that I could franchise this little goldmine and make a killing off the rest of the neighborhood kids. Capitalism: get 'em while they're young.
3) The Sit and Spin:
After fourteen underdone, kid-sized chocolate chip cookies and some slushy Kool-Aid ice, who doesn't want to throw up?
4) The Barbie Dream House:
Oh, God. Why can't I be Krystle Carrington? Whyyyyy...
5) The Millennium Falcon:
Okay, in my parents' defense, there's a good reason I never got this. Remember how expensive that heap was? Yowsa. Still, the sound effects and the sheer size of the thing made up for it.
6) Talking Electronic Battleship:
Way fun. And it talks.
7) A Chemistry Set:
Can't I pleeeease blow something up? Dissolve something with acid? Something? Please? I'll eat my brussels sprouts and everything. Promise.
8) Remote Control Boat:
Need I elaborate?
So there, I've vented. A lot of good it does me. There is no Santa Claus (much to my fifth grade naivete) and most of these toys are available only on eBay. Besides, I wouldn't want them now. What would I do with a crap slushy machine and a doll house? I can register for a Black and Decker Soft Serve Machine and put it in the real live "dream house" (complete with Ken!) I'll be moving into in October. No contest.
So dear bloggers: Vent. Let it all out. What were you denied? There is no shame, no guilt, only healing. We at MoltenThought are here to help you through your pain. *wink*
1 Comments:
Get 'em, WordGirrrl.
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