No characters

The Blog Exchange this month is a bit different. The following is my own post about why I don't (generally) buy character items for my kids. A previous blog exchange hostess of mine, Jodi, is posting her counter-argument on her blog. Go read Jodi's piece and read other point/counter points here.

Several years ago I was charging out of the elevator in a department store with the kids, trying to find whatever it is you look for in the kids’ section of department stores. We walked straight into a display of tote bags for a certain yellow sponge that lives at the bottom of the sea.

“I want that!” yells one boy.

“Me too!” yells his twin brother.

Their little sister in the stroller gurgled as she did during those baby years.

“Who is it?” I asked.

They both stared at me blankly, unable to answer this basic question.

“If you cannot tell me who the character is on the product, you cannot have it. Don’t ask again.” And so my no character rule began.

While my boys were in the neonatal ICU, we became friendly with a family with triplets. We would all go to their kids' birthday party and they would come to ours. It was in many ways our way of celebrating that our children had survived, had made it through another year.

But the triplets’ mother obsessed that each birthday had to have a character theme. Each kid was attributed to a character. Their first birthday it was all about the yellow bear so the son was the bear while one daughter was the tail-less purple thing and the other was the little pig. All the family's gifts centered around those characters. For the second birthday it was that movie about looking for a fish then the third was a tale about toys. By then the kids were asking for different, individual “themes” for their birthday but the mother wouldn’t listen.

What bothered me was that this mom had to “fit” the birthday into a theme. In other instances I listened to parents ask if a girl is a princess like a Disney character. Why can’t she (or he) just be a plain, old princess? Or why can’t a kid be a plain robot? Or even a, shudder, nameless train?

What is worse is this whole concept of a “lifestyle brand”. When did a television show become a lifestyle? I allow my kids to watch some television each day partly for the escapism, partly for the education and partly so I can have some quiet. However, on the rare times I let them watch commercial television they know how to fast forward through commercials. If they start bugging me for something in a commercial then I make them stop the television and we talk about what they like and how the company wants them to buy something. My now three year old daughter yells with perfect timing “Mommy! It is a commercial!”

The following from a co-founder of the Boston-based Campaign for a Commercial Free Childhood sums it up for me:

"The primary lesson [marketers are] teaching [children] is to seek happiness in
brands and commercial products," she said. "As we know, brands don't make us
happy. More ephemeral things, like relationships and job satisfaction, do."

I watched Wonder Woman as a kid. There were no bracelets, ropes or headbands for sale in the 1970’s. I either pretended to have the accessories or created ones. I read The Boxcar Children book series. I acted out the tales or made new ones with my best friend. There was no Boxcar Children wallpaper, cake designs or draperies. I vividly recall the power of my imagination and am grateful I wasn’t dependant on manufactured accessories to make my childhood ideas come to life.

I did though love Barbie dolls and my mother would never buy them for me. Every Christmas I would ask Santa for Barbie and everyone Christmas I wouldn’t get a single one. After one holiday, my mother was shocked at how sadly resigned I was that Santa didn’t care about me. Within days I received a big box in the mail full of my older cousin’s used Barbie dolls. I don’t think a package has given me more joy. I loved those dirty, unclothed, ratty haired dolls. And to this day I have a slight obsession with Barbie. Feel free ask Flower Child about it.

Which means, if one of my kids is really begging for some character toy a call may be made to a grandparent, uncle or godparent. Then the relative comes in with or mails a toy that makes my eyes roll, causes me to exclaim “How COULD they?” and I grumble that the toy is wrong.

And I hug the gift-giver on the side. Or place a grateful phone call.

Because within a week the glow from receiving the character toy is gone and I know the kid got it out of his or her system. I want my kids to remember the power of their imaginations. Not the power of the commercials.

Go read Jodi's counter point.

NaBloPoMo count - Day one done, 29 to go.