People joke that the only thing 1 year old wants for his birthday is wrapping paper. Or a box. Or the tape tidbits that wrapped the paper to the box. We joke because, of course, it's true. We also joke because we're so durn angry at ourselves for falling into the hands of America's toymakers and buying little Billy that $50 sit-and-spin-and-jump contraption that 9 out of 10 pediatricians agree will jump start their education.
I have a general theory that the less money you spend on a gift for a child is inversely proportional to how they enjoy it. I'm generally right.
Case in point: On our recent trip to Maryland, Dan and I purchased a Lea.p Frog 2 game system for Morgan. We reasoned that the 12 hour trip (that's WITHOUT stops) would need this piece of equipment as an insurance policy. We also decked out the car with all manner of DVDs to play in our portable DVD player.
Morgan will tell you that her favorite part of the trip was each stop to Mc.Donalds. The tantalizing Happ.y Meal toy with which we all grew up has now plunked its heavy tentacles on the desires--no, NEEDS-- of the next generation. She collected a family of Pet Shop creatures that, to our mind, cost us nothing. Nothing but a meal. It was free, but for the sake of my earlier argument, it's free-ish.
I didn't think that anything could be more free that that toy. I was wrong.
Upon one of our stops at McDs, a dear older woman who had 6 children, 44 grandchildren, 133 great grandchildren and 3 great-great grandchildren became our pit stop friend. She oooed and aaawed appropriately at baby Eve who was much more interested in the happy meal I could offer than that of the golden arches. And she ooowed and aaawed at Morgan who was "quite tall" and "so pretty" and all sorts of other nice things.
Then she left.
She came back a few moments later with 2 miniature Pou.nd Puppy stuffed animals for the girls. If you're at all familiar with this brand, then you know that their prime was, well, a decade ago. They age well, apparently.
The stuffed animals were definitely, um, loved. But that's bound to happen when you have 6 children, 44 grandchildren, 133 great grandchildren and... you get the picture.
I was torn when the dear older woman held out the gifts to us. The mommy in me wanted to shriek, "Don't touch them, Morgan! They're germ fests!" But the lover in me said, "Oh, c'mon... we're in a public restaurant... there are germs everywhere. Just take it. And smile."
I let Morgan take both the animals. She was *delighted*. She set aside her Happ.y Meal toys to make room for the two newcomers. I hope our dear new friend couldn't see well because while I was talking to her, Morgan was taking Eve's wipes and cleaning the new toys. Even she could see that they needed a good cleaning.
My husband and I made sure that these new toys went directly in the wash when we arrived back home. This morning I found one of the Poun.d Puppies on our kitchen table with a little pillow and blanket. He's oh-so-loved.
And I smile because while the Happ.y Meal seemed free, the stuffed animals were more so. My theory continues to stand strong, my wallet continue to balk at the situation and my daughter is the amount of "inversely proportional" delight that totally free elicits.
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