Do I hate TOYS-R-US?

A question I had today as Dave and I were walking along Broadway, looking at shops was... Do I hate Toys-R-Us? I sure have strong feelings towards it. It may just be because I was feeling a little grumpy and against-consumerism at the moment we walked by it, but I definitely have major 'no' feelings with that place. Dave slowed his pace as we passed, gazing into the window quietly, and I said, "Do you want to go in?" He said yes, so I went in with him.

The place was huge, with primary colours, obnoxious patterns, and cartoon-faces flashing before my eyes under the badly-flickering neon lights. I proceeded, wanting to close my eyes and run for the door. I just followed Dave like a lamb being led through dangerous terrain. I heard a kid screaming and wailing for something he wanted that his parents weren't buying for him in the next aisle. I saw the X-BOX Nintendo banner above the enourmous video-games section at the other end of the store. Actually, I wanted to pass out from the stimulation. Not only that, but I was smelling all sorts of plasticky smells... you know they scent the toys now? Yes, for extra stimulation. And we're wondering why so many kids have A.D.D these days? I mean, come ON! Who was the genius who decided to make baby-toys with patterns, smells and sounds all in one? A little too much?

Anyway, as I went through the store, barely able to focus on anything, I remembered a memory from when I was about 6 or 7 years old. I was walking through the Barbie aisle of a department store with my mom. I happened to see a BEAUTIFUL barbie in a probably a pink princess dress that I fancied right away. I picked it off the shelf and started to ask my mom for it. I begged and moaned and pleaded, and my mother replied to me a simple and firm answer: "No."

Now, you would think that this would have been a heart-wrenching memory for me, where I didn't get something I really wanted and I was always scarred by it... but it wasn't. My mom would often let me get my one sugary-snack when we went shopping at the grocery store. My parents loved getting me a few gifts that I really wanted on my birthday and at Christmas. The "no" in the department store was okay with me, after I got over it in the moment. In fact, I kind of found some comfort in the fact that she had said "no" to me, and I recognized that pretty soon after. Why? I think it's the 'boundaries' thing. Kids need boundaries. They need limits sometimes to keep from being frivilous and unappreciative of good things... to keep them from being poisoned by greed and selfishness. Man, I sound like some strict utilitarian here, but I think boundaries teach us patience, self-control, and kindness... things that are fruits of the Spirit of God. I actually valued my mother's "no" at that time more than I would have valued her getting the barbie-doll for me impulsively. It made me feel like my mom was in charge, and that she was looking out for my deeper needs. I needed someone else to make some decisions for me at that point so that I could be a kid and not worry about adult things. I was grateful for it.

This brings me to another thing... I didn't live the decked-out spoiled life as a kid. My parents were kind and generous as I said, but we weren't overflowing in riches, and my parents didn't spoil us with stuff we didn't need. I played with a lot of hand-me downs from my sisters. I played in the park behind our house- that didn't require any toys to have amazing adventures in. My sister Michal made me all my barbie accessories, including a barbie convertible car made out of carboard, a barbie hot-tub made out of the styrofoam that came with her gettoblaster, and many more. We had a playground of our imaginations to romp in. My dad was also particularly good at getting us toys to discover life with... microscopes, magnifying glasses, science books, fimo, (not to mention booger & fart books... hee hee), and much more.


So I don't know... I'm kind of an advocate for simplicity with kids... they have enough to discover of life without all the crazy Toys R Us distractions we sometimes think they need.