Toy Review #1

On my desk sits a pair of Christmas gifts for Erik. Of course, they were purchased after carefully assessing their educational value and determining which halves of Erik's brain would be appropriately stimulated from playing with them.

These include a set of Melissa & Doug wooden lacing beads (Package reads: "Plus Two Laces!"), which I will open before Erik does and replace the strings with plastic tubing, which is easier for any 2-year-old, let alone one with motor skill difficulties, to manipulate through the beads. But wait! There's more. I also purchased a stacking shapes pegboard. I'm not going to even bother capitalizing that. It's from a seemingly reputable company called Learning Resources. What is a stacking shapes pegboard, you ask? Well, It's a board with holes in it very unenthusiastically impaled by pegs holding up "5 shapes in 5 colors!" I find it interesting companies make no effort whatsoever to give a painfully boring toy a name with just a little more...something. I'm no advertising executive, but these toys are in need of a serious makeover. The "laces!" in the one box only remind me of John Wayne Gacy's infamous rope trick, which is definitely not a very effective selling point for the 2-year-old set, and the pegs leave just about everything to be desired. They are the kind of toys a kid might open on Christmas morning and immediately start weeping, thinking Santa hates him. At least coal has the potential to keep a kid warm as he sobs himself to sleep. Even cuddly but seemingly uninspiring toys like Elmo gain the dubious honor of occasionally having methamphetamine packed in their furry, Muppet-y orifices and smuggled across the United States border. I guarantee that these particular toys will never make the news unless they pose some sort of choking hazard or mysteriously spontaneously combust and are recalled. Sadly, it would be difficult to even hurt yourself on them (I checked into that as well). What kind of fun is that?

Unfortunately, I feel it necessary to purchase these items as Erik develops upon the recommendation of his therapists. They do him a lot of good. However, it is going to be really hard for me to wrap them in festive paper, put them under the tree, and call them gifts. I even chose this particular pegboard because Erik will have a hard time rolling any of the pieces (he'll still try) on the hard floor and going into his happy-wheel-trance. I am requesting a wheel-less Christmas this year and a very silent night in terms of battery-operated items.

On the other hand, Erik and I have discovered the joy of Play-Doh. Actually, I have rediscovered how wonderful it is. It's nothing like the homemade dough with glistening squares of salt granules in it tinted a sickly pink by red grocery store food coloring. I hit the jackpot with the "Chomp 'N Chew" diner on eBay. It comes with a plastic diner featuring realistically uncomfortable booths and a miniature grill. There are molds to make all of your favorite classic diner foods, like spaghetti, corn, and fish (What the...?), and it comes with three tiny tubs of Play-Doh in three fabulously artificial, bright colors. The whole set seems kind of random if you don't have the whole town. You can decapitate each of the little figures and cram their craniums with clay so that when you return the heads to their torsos and push down on them, their hair grows. I'm not sure what kind of wacky diner this is, but apparently they serve gigantic doses of prenatal vitamins. I like chopping off a single strand of freakishly thick, dough hair and placing it atop the adjacent patron's plate of pancakes, whereupon the recipient picks up his plate and hurls it toward the kitchen and curses the chef. SPLAT! You can also pull their heads up slightly and cram the crudely molded food in their mouths. It's alarming but strangely adorable. Unfortunately, when they settle the check and get up to leave, all of the food they enjoyed rolls out their plastic bottoms, leaving colorful piles of dough where they once sat and instantly explaining why you never see the same busboy in Play-Doh Town.

Oh the fun that Erik and I have. At the end of our "therapy" session, there is quite a mess. It's funny -- I don't remember Play-Doh sticking underneath my fingernails and discoloring them for three days. It makes one wonder about what we are doing with our nuclear waste these days. It still smells delightful, though!

The heck with therapy today. I feel a gluttonous melee at the Chomp 'N Chew coming on.