So, this whole toy issue is giving me plenty of food for thought. When the kids were born, I read tons of different child-development books (otherwise known as guaranteeing yourself a near constant anxiety attack about your performance as a mother), and there are literally hundreds of theories about what sort of play kids should be engaging in, and which toys are the best for them. There is a backlash against all of the educational toys, there is an anti-plastic brigade, there is a lot of fuss being made over toys that do not allow any imagination, and then of course there is the whole parallel and intricate issue of television.

TV on its own is an entirely different debate, but there is a lot of concern about all of the characters in a child’s toy box originating from a show that has a plot provided. In other words, if a child picks up Dora, some people are concerned that he or she will simply reiterate a show’s story line, instead of making up their own. I see the point, but I am not sure if that is entirely true. I think perhaps the shows may prompt ideas, but I really don’t think they stifle them entirely. Assuming the child has not been pickled in that cool TV glow.

My issues with TV are different: First, I tend to find most of it depressing. Not because the content is depressing, but I just think it is depressing to sit inside and watch it if the sun is up. This is primarily due to my own personal need for UV light. Second, there is a bit of condoned attitude among some of the “children’s programming” that I find distasteful. Even on Sesame Street there are wise-cracking brats. Oscar was one thing, but when you have a cartoon character mimicking the attitude of a grown up for comic effect, I have a big issue with it. My kids do not need to know how to say “talk to the hand.” Third, the materialism cultivated by TV is something that I know I cannot escape, but I can keep it as minimal as possible. The fewer commercials, the less susceptible they are to the global machine.

I don’t know what impact our no-TV policy is having, but I do know that when they do see television, it is like giving them speed. The shows are loud and glaring, and the commercials are even worse. They visible wince. As adults we are able to tune it out, but as kids they are sucked into the chaos and they cannot get out.

I digress. I am not trying to sound judgmental—I know that Ava learned her ABCs so early because of TV, and so I know there are benefits, but I feel like watching children’s TV these days is forced complicity with the WalMart agenda.

Anyway, back to toys. I have been concerned with the toys that the kids had, ever since they were little. I saw the point that researchers were making about overstimulating—simple is better, keep the noise and the lights to a minimum, etc. So, my vague policy has been to keep the toys as simple as possible, avoid licensed characters, and minimize the plastic (HA!). But I quickly learned that allowing a child to become proficient on the computer by letting her play PBS games is not tantamount to eschewing ones responsibility as a parent to teach her pre-reading and math skills. Sometimes they just don’t want you to hover over them. If she is going to push me away, then by all means PBS, go for it. Also, remote controlled toys are a riot. Especially when you have a dog.

Toys that I assumed they would love often sat ignored for months, even years. We have an outdoor climbing thing, with a little slide and a hideaway underneath. Ava played on it occasionally, but it pretty much collected pinecones for the last two years. Carter was a bit more interested this summer, but not by much. Then suddenly, they discovered that IT HAS A SECRET SPECIAL HIDEAWAY! And I cannot get them to leave it alone. I have to lure them inside with ice-cream sandwiches. I only have four years of experience, but I have concluded that children’s interests develop in no particular pattern. All children will like almost all toys, but on their own schedule. Carter LOVED puzzles in his first year. Ava? Not so much. Now, at 4, she adores them. The weird thing about them is that she puts them together based on shape only, not by looking at the colors and how they need to line up. Ava had a profound fear of balls for a long time as an infant. Then it was over. One consistent love for both of them: books.

What this all boils down to, is: you never know what is going to be a hit. Moreover, something they love at school or at a friend’s house may lose its luster once they have one at home.
Worrying about whether or not a toy is developmentally appropriate is perhaps a good exercise, but really, if you are the type of parent who worries if a toy is going to help or hinder their neural map, your kids probably have such an advantage already that the difference a toy is going to make is infinitesimal. All of the emphasis on toys in parenting theories—say for example the Waldorf and Montessori philosophies—is interesting and certainly valuable, but those authors never considered how much anxiety they could provoke in a neurotic mother.

And then, after all of this mental anguish about providing a stimulating and fun learning environment, after all of this observation, careful tracking of their cognitive development via play, after all of that, it turns out that the toys are essentially laced with poison. And then, if you are frantic about heavy metals poisoning your kids, and you tend to be a bit on the extreme side (some might refer to it as the all or nothing approach), you cull everything that might have been painted in China.

After the first wooden toy painted in China scare, I removed everything that might have been painted, but I left the plastic things—I still cannot tell when plastic has been painted. This left us with a seriously reduced number of toys.

Neither child even noticed.

I mentioned the issue to Ava, because she had been given some jewelry and I told her that she could not keep it. When questioned, I simply told her why. Some may chafe at the idea of being so forthright with a four-year old, but she is just the sort of kid that has to know exactly why something is happening. Telling her some fib or worse yet, some fairy tale to explain it gets you nowhere. She looks at you with “yeah, right” and then continues with her line of questioning. Now, wherever we go, she asks if something is made in China. This is probably going to embarrass me someday, but I am glad that she understands, because I can say “no, we cannot have that, because it may not be safe.” In turn, I promise not to abuse that and tell her that we cannot buy ice cream because it might have been made in China. Too easy.

Then I had to remove almost all of the remaining toys for Ava’s birthday, partly to make room, and partly to protect them from the flock of preschoolers I invited into our home. After her birthday, I kept putting off the toy restocking, glancing at them piled in the basement, thinking, I really need to take care of this, but not having any need because most of our days were spent outside. And as the days went by, I noticed that the kids were not missing them. They do spend most of their time outside, where it must be said there are TONS of toys—rakes and shovels and buckets and so on—that are in heavy rotation. I am not sure what would have happened if this experiment had taken place in the winter. However, when they were inside, they would do one of several things: art, run around with some crazy made up game using whatever props they could find (fly swatters, empty boxes, ribbon, dress up clothes) or no props at all, play intently with some of the toys that did remain, or flip through books.

The toys/playthings that I kept upstairs were all of the stuffed animals, all of the dress-up clothes, the wooden barn with little horse figurines, the cash register, a plastic bus and a little wagon, the tent, the blocks, all of our books, the games, and some indestructible things that live in the toybox—too tedious to list—basically little things. But essentially, that was it. And they have been perfectly happy. I did get the little scooters that they love, and the little grocery carts back out of the basement. Those are big favorites.

What I have realized is that they have finally reached the age where art supplies, books, puzzles, games and props are really all that is needed for HOURS of fun. When they were little, most of those things were not an option, and those that were an option were dropped after the small-child-attention-span limit of fifteen minutes. You add up the fifteen minute stretches in a 14-hour period and you find yourself needing 56 toys. And you had better hope that some of those 56 toys have lights and music and buttons and all of the things that violate the ‘simple is better’ rule. Between the ages of 0 days and 2 years, anything—ANYTHING—that stops crying meets the criteria of being a wonderful toy.

But now that their imaginations have been launched, it is all different. Toys are great, obviously, but the type and quantity necessary is totally different. A few caterpillars in a box with dirt, moss, and a few rocks (otherwise known as a terrarium, I think) occupies Ava for hours. One small stuffed horse and a roll of curling ribbon (closely monitored) has occupied Ava for two weeks now. And blocks are all Carter needs for the afternoon, especially now that he has stopped chucking them at the sliding glass door. Granted, they have each other, and they do a pretty good job of playing together, and that helps a lot, but if we are inside, they are either pretending or creating.

This is a good lesson to have been forced upon us by the free market. I hate the way in which it occurred, and it absolutely kills me that companies and countries are blithely risking our children’s health in the name of profit, but I really don’t see any other solution other than to keep my kid’s environment simple and local. At least they don’t seem to mind.