I have a friend who several times a week sends me a reminder of how many days there are until Christmas. She has been doing this since December 27. She laughs when I suggest she might want to check into medication regarding that sort of obsession.
Regardless, the shopping season is upon us. I have tentatively begun looking into board games for Sparky. There isn’t a lot out there for a two-year-old. I want him to have memories of family game night when cutthroat games of Parchisi or Kerplunk! are played. Games of Uno will come eventually, as will Trivial Pursuit. Board games teach strategic planning, taking turns, how to be a gracious winner – and loser. They can help with math, spelling, history, art, music and problem solving. They bring a family together, creating bonding time and memories.
I was trolling through the on-line sales looking for age appropriate games, Cootie! Chutes and Ladders, Old Maid, were all there, but I noticed a disturbing trend among the games and toys this year. They seem to be heavily focused on body functions.
In less than five minutes I found the following games:
“Fishing for Floaters”
“Who Did It?” (matching poop with poopers)
“Don’t step in it.” (a disgusting version of twister)
“Greedy Granny” (a game involving Granny losing her dentures)
I cannot EVEN begin to imagine a “fun filled evening” playing a game that involved removing pustules from a plastic face. Ugh.
I also found standard toys such as:
“The Pet Turd – Mr. Turd”
“Play Dough’s Poop Troop”
And even Barbie is in this mess with a cat she is litter box training and a dog that comes with his own pooper-scooper.
Barbie’s involvement feels like an insult. Barbie lives a life that even most adult women envy, and she has been reduced to scooping doggie doo before the HOA for her dream home files complaints.
I remember my brother and cousins getting cool racetracks that involved creating racing loops and shiny matchbox cars for Christmas. I received a Baby Alive doll that drank from a bottle and then would “leak” all over you if you tilted her wrong. It felt a lot like betrayal the first time that happened. She was cradled in my arms and BAM! Doll pee all over me – which in turn looked like I had leaked all over myself. It left me wondering what was so great about playing with dolls.
Needless to say, Sparky will not be receiving any of these less-than-delightful fecal themed toys. At least not from the hubs and myself. I kinda feel sorry for the kids that do receive them because I am betting that any self-respecting adult will not be sitting down week after week, to play a round of “Fishing for Floaters” with their kids. It leaves the child with a game that no-one will play with them.
It just seems that life will fling enough manure at kids soon enough, there’s no sense in insisting they play in (with) it, too.