Another Day in the Country
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
I just came back to Kansas from California where I went to help celebrate the first birthday of my one and only grandchild. It was quite an occasion. Relatives and friends came from all over California to join in the fun. My daughter said that she hadn't planned such a party since she and Richard had gotten married. All of this for a little boy turning one year old.
On the baby's bedroom wall — which also was his mother's bedroom when she was one year old — is a painting that I did of some of her toys. There's a teddy bear, a ball, one of those little wooden mailboxes that you put different shaped blocks into, and Elmer — a stuffed toy from Sesame Street (which was just beginning).
I took pictures of some of Dagfinnr's toys because I'm going to do a painting of those, too, for him to remember — but they will look very different from his mother's.
Toys in 2008 are not what they were 40 or 50 years ago. For one thing, everything makes noise in 2008. There are tables that sing and whistle and play tunes. There are telephones that recite the alphabet. There are a zillion bright colored, noisy, chattering, plastic things of every shape and size. In fact, it is difficult to find a plain wooden toy that doesn't talk, ask questions, flash, chime, or run away on its own. My grandson is very leery of toys with wheels that have a mind of their own.
For his first birthday, our little boy got so many toys that my daughter will have to bring them out in shifts — for years! He got an art easel with enough chalk to redecorate his whole bedroom. He got a big red fire truck that you can ride, push, and take apart — it has sirens and bells and whistles, doing everything but report the evening news. He got things to push, pull, stack, and break. Our neighbor was smart and brought a ball, but unfortunately it had Sponge Bob all over it and the birthday-boy didn't like the looks of those eyes — you can tell he is not a TV-watching child. He does like balls, however, and loves to throw them for me to catch.
Dagfinnr's little cousin, Soren, who is a year and a half older is absolutely whacky over Thomas the Train. I guess Thomas has been around for awhile but I'd never heard of all of his buddies. Soren can recite the names of all of them and he has most of them. My son-in-law called out a limit, "No Thomas," he said.
After the party, we headed for the toy store to exchange one of the gifts for something more age-appropriate. "Remember the little lawn mower type thing that popped up balls as you pushed it?" I said to my daughter. "Maybe we can find one of those." We couldn't.
"Remember the bouncy ball?" said my 40-year-old. "I don't think they make them any more. I loved my bouncy ball
With everything beeping and flashing and playing music in toyland, it's no wonder that eight-year-olds walk around hooked to iPods and kids talk to their cell phones instead of to the person standing beside them.
Whatever happened to silent toys, inert toys, toys that required you to use your own imagination or noise-making ability?
"When I was a kid," Tooltime Tim declared, "we didn't even have a sand box — it was just any pile of dirt and we had a good time in it."
Well, it's another day in the country because yesterday, in Salina, I saw designer sand — there was pink sand, lavender sand, green sand, blue sand for your sand box. The only good part was that it didn't make a sound!
