Am I Really Hiding Under the Bed…from My Daughter’s Toys?

We live in the age of electronics. Kids are glued to their smart phones, IPads, IPods, Kindles, and laptops. Games, books, movies, and music are all on these devices. Any type of entertainment for both child and adult can be found on these devices.

Except toys. Effing toys.

I believe that all children should have toys. It builds creativity, problem solving, and develops motor skills.

But some toys literally scare the crap out of me. Like my daughter’s toys.

It is best to illustrate my point thought the art of photography:

  • Dolls. These b*tches freak me out. Their clothes are more expensive than mine, they get their hair professionally done, and they are always sporting that smug smirk. It’s like high school all over again. At least with Barbie, you know what you are getting – a slightly slutty doll. Barbie’s got nothing to hide. There are about 500 variations of her and one Ken. You do the math.

The other night, I walked into the living room after my daughter was in bed, flipped on the light and found this:

American Girls

I think she was re-creating a scene from Mean Girls.

  • Avatars. While not really a toy, it’s as if my child went to a virtual Build A Bear and dressed up a stuffed animal.

Look as this Slick Rick.

Pimp Cat

It’s like Puss in Boots’ other brother – Huggy Cat. And what’s the deal with the butterfly hiding the eight ball?

  • Human-Size Toys. It looks cute, but really? I think this is the child’s equivalent to a body pillow. I found it sitting up and tucked in bed one morning. My daughter asked if she could take it on vacation. I told her we would have to buy a seat for it on the plane. She didn’t see the problem with this. Pray for us.


  • Stuffed Animal Hoarding. These things are like Gremlins – they keep multiplying every time I turn my back. They are at the fair, arcade, mall, other people’s homes, and every damn gift shot across America.

Here she is surrounded by them a la St. Francis of Asisi style. Let’s hope these all don’t translate to cats later in life.


I don’t have an answer about the scary toys. I’m sure my parents shook their heads at my belongings. At least our toys were somewhat functional: you could travel around on your Big Wheel; work out your brain muscles with the Rubik’s Cube, and when your parents yelled, “Go find something to do!” You could literally Sit –n- Spin.

Remember this little guy?

Remember this little guy?

For now I will have to cohabitate with my daughter’s entertainment choices. They make her happy, feel safe, and bottom line, she likes them.

But if that American Girl doll asks for her own cell phone, she might end up in the shed.