Toys for Tots. Really?

Yesterday, I was pulling out some of Seth's workbooks to do with him. I know...I just can't break free of the whole teacher thing. At any rate, at least he still enjoys learning. School hasn't ruined that for him yet, but that's another topic for another day. So, ANYWHO...he requested that we work in his sticker book, which I approved of since it's logical, educational, and entertaining thanks to bright colors and cartoon dogs and such. The premise of the book is that you master a concept by peeling off stickers from the middle pages of the book and placing them on pages where there are matching shapes, colors, numbers, or whatever the educational topic happens to be. These books are supposedly made for children (hence the bright colors and cartoon animals). At first glance, it seems genius for those of us looking for a way to keep our kids entertained in restaurants or in the car, which was the reason I bought the book in the first place. The books aren't messy, they have hundreds of stickers (seemingly minutes of entertainment), and they are quiet. On the contrary, these are actually just another example of a child's plaything that reads "ages three and up," but should instead read, "ages three and up when assisted by a child age twelve and up that can locate the stickers that correspond with the correct pages, successfully peel them off, and not be distracted by the fifty other stickers on the same page separated only by a thin line." Yes, once again, someone has created entertainment for a child that requires my help. If I wanted to participate in entertaining my child at the restaurant, I wouldn't have spent ten bucks on a sticker book. I would have, instead, taken a Sharpie marker, drawn two dots and a smile on my finger tips and performed a finger puppet show.

I realize that I run the risk of sounding like I don't want to spend time with my son. That is not the case at all. I believe very strongly in the value of quality, not quantity, time with my kids. I try to set time aside each day to play with them so that they will know that they were more important to me than a clean floor or a dust-free home. But let's be realistic. I buy toys and said sticker books, so that my kids will also know I value taking a shower each day. It is just as important for them to be capable of entertaining themselves for at least short periods of time. Knowing how to be peaceful and content while alone is an important life skill. My thoughts when I am buying toys orbit around that very idea, and I know I am not alone. This is the same philosophy from which stems the age-old phrase, "Find something to do." So, why is it that so many toys require so much help from an adult? Since Seth turned six months old, I found that many of his toys only succeeded in frustrating him if left on his own while playing. If you know Seth, you know that he has a low tolerance for frustration, but it's still a valid point. From ride-on dump trucks that require hand-eye coordination to lower the seat after dumping out blocks to Play-Doh "fun" factories that call for twenty pounds of force to turn clay into spaghetti, it seems that the box should read "mommy not included."

So, what does it take for a toy to be a truly great toy? Simplicity. The best toys are simple. Kids are often more entertained with the box than the toy, because there is so much possibility in that box. This is why blocks and dolls are timeless toys. It's fun when Mommy and Daddy play along, but it's not necessary. I'm still glad I bought the sticker books and the dump trucks and the Play-Doh, because there's a lot my boys will learn from playing with those things. In fact, yesterday, we learned a lot about shapes from playing with stickers. All I'm saying is, let's be realistic and quit labeling these toy packages and books "ages 3 and up." Let's make some more toys that don't require batteries and mommies to play along. I just want the chance to opt out and take a shower, cook a meal, or read my Bible once in a while, because the Lord knows better than I do that all of these toys that require my assistance are only increasing my need for Him. Maybe that's the point.