Go Retro

There is an article in science daily about toys. And just in time for the holiday season.

“Old-fashioned retro toys, such as red rubber balls,
simple building blocks, clay and crayons, that don’t cost so much and are
usually hidden in the back shelves are usually much healthier for children than
the electronic educational toys that have fancier boxes and cost $89.99,” says
Temple University developmental psychologist Kathy
Hirsh-Pasek.”

The basic purpose of toys is to fuel imagination. They are accessories to a child’s play, not an end in themselves. I cannot understand the fascination with the fancy electronic toys. I have seen a few and they seem to be so limited in what they can do. Press this button and a light will glow, pull this lever and a song will play. What then? The child will inevitably get bored.

Chip has a lot more toys than what I grew up with. Most of them are gifts. He has a ball that plays songs or speaks the phonetic equivalent of an alphabet. It lies in our crawlspace. He has an electronic jackhammer, two ride-on trucks, a rocking horse, a trike, roller skates, countless soft toys, wooden blocks, 2 sets of plastic blocks (one is stored away), two basket ball hoops (one outdoor, one indoor stored away), a dozen cars and trucks, one even has a remote control, half a dozen puzzles, a few balls in various colors and textures, a small magnetic slate and some random junkie assortment including a dead xbox controller, decimated potato head, a plastic maraca, wooden coasters, beads, stickers and a small notebook. Out of the list, I have bought him a blue plastic ball, a few soft toys and some puzzles and blocks. I have also bought him the beads and the stickers and the notebook.

The electronic toys in our home follow a rule. Once the original batteries die out, they are not replaced. Chip eventually finds another way to play with the toys, which means those toys were more than electronic gimmicky to begin with. The trucks are a good example of this. Chip whined when the batteries first died, but soon figured out that he could stack more cars on the truck and make it a car-carrier. Or put walnuts into it and pretend it was a dump truck (he got a swat and then a timeout for doing this, this probably deserves a post of its own). The remote controller for the radio-controlled car soon became a phone into which his imaginary friend (Chiu the sparrow) was asked to bring goodies for all (milk and three blue lollipops for Chip, green jelly beans for Ajji, mac and cheese for Aie and water for Baba). The dead xbox controller became a camera to capture every kodak moment or a pair of headphones while he mowed the lawn with his truck. The coasters became plates for serving the delectable food he cooked for us using an empty plastic chopper (sans blade), an old pot and some spoons. This is play where imagination is at work. He can play forever with his ball or spend considerable time doing his puzzles. He draws pictures of his grandfather and his grandmother and his father and me in scribbled detail on the little magnetic slate.

Yet the fancy electronic games win the battle. It is guilt? Is it fear? As parents, perhaps the fear overrules. Like Pascal’s wager, one errs on this side. And as doting aunts and uncles and family friends, I am convinced the guilt overrules. After all, how can one give a $1 plastic ball to a favorite nephew on his birthday? Throw some electronic gadgetry in it and viola it becomes a respectable gift at $19.99. And I am not holier-than-thou and all pretentious. I have been guilty of the same. But I think I am going to change that. If I ever have to gift a toy, it going to be real, toy. A retro toy. If it is cheap, so be it. I can put the rest of the money in that child’s college fund or something. But, here comes the clincher, what if the child thinks it is too boring? What then?