It Seems That I Don’t Understand…
Wed., December 24, 03:50 PM
The weekly question in the newspaper was, what was your best childhood holiday gift? I had to say that I honestly can’t remember. I was not an underprivileged child. And I have a very good memory. I recall many other great presents, including birthdays and some for no occasion other than that someone was visiting. At our house, the holidays weren’t about gifts. We even withstood the influence of the public schools, where it was not yet politically incorrect to concentrate on Christmas songs and crafts and presents as soon as Thanksgiving was over.
Why do I bother to mention this at all? Because I see so many parents racking their brains and straining their budgets for overpriced items that will be forgotten in no time – some even before they’re paid for. If they can bring themselves to look at the whole picture – instead of five minutes of “I gotta have that” – they just might be able to reduce the stress of what should be a happy time.
So that was my answer, but I think I really don’t understand most toys; I’m not sure I ever did. Stuffed animals had a limited appeal. Even something as clever as a Tickle-Me-Elmo has got to lose its charm quickly once you’re past kindergarten age.
I seem to have learned very early that it was more fun to do stuff than it was to play with toys. Game and jigsaw puzzles were fun; we often worked those as a family. I liked to play with toys that seemed to demonstrate a scientific theory. You could always give me a book, of course. I liked coloring books as long as the crayons lasted. Broken crayons got thrown out awfully fast.
I did like baby dolls, but by the time I was ten I had discovered that even the most elaborate ones still didn’t breathe. Fortunately, the lady next door had a baby around that time, and that was the first baby I ever sat for (except Sister). One present my brother got would have been appropriate. It was a tool set. But I was a girl, y’know, you don’t give tools to girls. So I shared my brother’s until I was old enough to have my own.
I don’t draw very well, but I enjoyed using a ruler and a compass. When I studied plane geometry in high school, it was just an extension of the toys I had enjoyed. When my mother handed me a marked doily and some embroidery floss, I considered that a good toy. No occasion – I imagine she found it at the bottom of a drawer and figured that she was never going to finish it. I liked that even more than coloring books; eventually I learned more plain sewing than Mother did too.
There was an article in the paper about really dumb gifts, and I’ve mentioned those before. It’s hard to believe that these things proliferate, that people are actually paid to think up…a S’mores set? Separate dishes for the chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers, and a little heater to melt them; would you pay $45 for that? It makes about as much sense as those Betty Crocker ovens that “baked” with a light bulb. If you’re gonna teach the kids to cook – and you should – then teach them with a real toaster or microwave or stove and teach safety at the same time!
What I really don’t understand are those items that are supposed to take the place of the parent. Have you seen the ads for the “Baby, Baby” CD? (It’s personalized with your baby’s name, so it becomes a “family keepsake.”) I’ve never known a mother who couldn’t sing something to her child. Even my mother, who was no singer, managed to sing to the babies. (My dad was a better singer; he sang whether or not there was a baby there to hear it.) And I sang to my kids, even after I discovered that M.D. preferred Beverly Sills.
You can buy a tape (or a CD, I suppose) that will read a story to a child. What’s the matter, dad, can’t you do it without help? You can buy electronic gadgets that help the kid learn to read. Yes, there are plenty of teaching aids, including television and recordings, but the parents – both sexes – are supposed to be the teachers. If you’re overwhelmed, seek out someone more experienced – a retired schoolteacher, a neighbor whose kids are grown up, a relative. As far as I’m concerned, there is no point to being a stay-at-home mom if you aren’t parenting while you’re there.
No doubt there will be someone offended by my views; don’t tell me about it. Just click the little x.
Grateful that I went out early enough to miss the crowds and the rain.
