Toys that Annoy: Buy at your own Risk

Easter's just passed so I'm in that clean up mode where I embody the ServePro motto, "Like it never even happened" with a full vengeance. Various colors of plastic grass are strewn about--too much for the dustbuster and in too many places to lug around a full-size vac, compliments of my 4-year old twins.

But to take liberties with Dr. Seuss' "Cat in the Hat" verse, "Oh, but that is not the worst, no that is not the worst of it!" The worst of it are the actual toys that were nestled in the plastic grass that various Easter bunnies (you know who you are) thought my darlings must have. Two deserve special note here: MoonSand and PixOs.

MoonSand and PixOs belong on a DNB (Do Not Buy) list. Unless you're invited to a birthday party at Chucky Cheese's (payback's a bitch), these toys have no place in your or anyone else's home.

Your first clue as to why-not-to-buy should be that they are both advertised on t.v.--on the "As Seen on TV" commercials. The ones where you get the toy plus the ginsu knives for only $19.95 and you can pay in 3 easy installments.

Assuming you missed that clue, MoonSand is sand that sticks together a'la PlayDoh, but if tapped, smushed, or crushed will disintegrate into its original sand form. It is fun to mold, but as "it never dries out" it also will always follow the dust-to-dust progression, never solidifying into something that will leave no mess. MoonSand also has a proclivity for getting stuck in carpets, cracks in hardwood floors, and marble floor tile. I've noticed that the more recent MoonSand ads now include various trays for little hands to create and house there works in--sounds like customer feedback in action to me. Unless you're absolutely going to keep MoonSand an outdoors event, do yourself a favor and steer clear of it! Definitely a MotherWouldn't.

Next up, PixOs. As with MoonSand, I'm all for creative play. At first, PixOs seem like a parent's dream: you stick little plastic-looking balls into a template grid, spray with water and the balls meld together to create little pictures. No iron or oven required! No supervision needed! Safe! Sane? No. See those little balls, which are the size of those little balls you get when you break apart Styrofoam, roll and bounce and fly all over the place. You'll step on them, waste countless hours picking them up by hand (the dustbuster does not always like them and if you try that route I guarantee crying and wailing that you're "taking away my PixOs!") and rue the day they entered your home. You'll find them everywhere except where you want them to be. Another MotherWouldn't.

Baby Alive Needs a Mommy Alive

So it's been a week of holiday festivities and frivolity and we've had a new addition to our family! For those of you who know me, no, you did not miss my pregnancy and no, we did not adopt another child. Rather, we've become the proud parents of a new...BABY ALIVE! I say "we" because once Santa brings your daughter a Baby Alive (BA), it does indeed take a village.

For those of you who are not familiar with this little tyke, she's reminiscent of that Sassy Susan doll of yore in size and coif. However, BA has eyes right out of some Japanese cartoon or comic--they just seem unnaturally large for what's supposed to be a natural-looking babe. I had to first get over that. Then, to my naivete, I had not kept up on all the BA hype enough to to absorb the fact that she...poops! Yes, she POOPS! Just like the original from the mid-70's. And I now know why my own mother never got me one. We're not talking about those dolls that "drink" water and then (oops!) "pee" it out neatly on the other end. We're talking poop: whatever color you feed her is whatever color (& consistency) you find on the other end.

And here's the "gotcha!" glitch for her real parents with real wallets: HER DIAPERS ARE NOT REUSABLE!!! Now, that is stated on the package--but not in anything larger than say, 12 pt type. So when you have your first trial run (no pun intended) you realize you cannot wash and re-wear. Then you realize Hasbro has only given you TWO diapers to start and BA has just sent one to a landfill. So you're hearing "Mommy! Let's feed her the peas now! Please! PLEASE!" while you're mentally processing the fact that after the peas, BA will have to starve for a while and your daughter will be despondent.

For a fleeting moment, I entertained the thought of making some washable diapers--complete with velcro tabs. I figured I'd already earned my Fed-Ex stripes from having boxes (& boxes!) of diapers shipped to my door for the twins and I was not about to repeat that, even if on a miniature scale. Fortunately for me, my daughter would rather curl up with a book or feed her starving Webkins brood--even if she only gets to do so for 30 minutes at a time. So the "Mom, can we buy Baby Alive more diapers?" whine only lasted for days 1 & 2 of her newly found motherhood. There is a higher power.

And so I feel guilty that BA is not getting enough love.

Not sure if I would've let Santa bless us with this little cherub had I been eyes-wide-open on all her needs. But then I also would not have had the harrowing life-flashing-before-me experience of hearing my daughter say, "Mommy! This means you're a grandmother!!"