T A B L E++T A L K

Why do people get married, quickly have kids, then split up? Discuss disposable families in the Mothers area of Table Talk

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R E C E N T L Y

The men's room
By Diane Lore
There's no rest for parents weary of making the decision whether to send their kids into public bathrooms
(12/01/98)

Go with the flow
By Jenn Shreve
A small, vocal group of women wants you to toss out your pads, tampons and liners and go -- no joke -- reusable
(11/30/98)

Thanksgiving
By Anne Lamott
If I can muster the love and patience it takes to deal with my mother, does it still count if my hands are trembling with rage?
(11/25/98)

Turkey fry
By Jennifer Reese
An old lover taught me the sexiest type of Thanksgiving cooking and how to do something sacrilegious and preposterous to a national symbol
(11/24/98)

Faraway, so close
By Debra Gwartney
Coming home causes my oldest daughter to withdraw into corners, turn her face and back up toward the door until she can run away again
(11/23/98)

BROWSE THE MOTHERS WHO THINK FEATURE ARCHIVES

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Mamafesto
By Camille Peri
Why it's time
for Mothers Who Think

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KIDS JUST WANT TO HAVE FUN | PAGE 1, 2
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Maybe this year I'll be more firm. Last year, however, I fell victim to an old ploy that I myself perfected as a child. When your parents ask what you want for Christmas, you tell them there is only one thing in the whole world that will make you happy. This one thing has got to be good. A new board game doesn't cut it. It must be big. It must be significant. It must be expensive and hard to find, a true test of your parents' love.

This is how, at the age of 10, I got a funny little oven that baked fruit-flavored goop into bug-shaped candy. This is how, in high school, I got my first stereo. And this is how, at I'm-old-enough-to-know-better, I got my miniature soda shop.

It took my kids several months and a lot of this is the only toy that will make me happy exercises, but they finally wore me down. When my daughter was 3, she learned to parrot everything her big brother said. She couldn't have cared less about ice cream shops for dolls, but she did care very much about Mark's view of the universe. So if he told her she was dying for a soda shop, then die she did.

In every store she entered, whether it sold toys or not, Cathy flopped down in the aisles and swore through her sobs that she would never move again if she didn't get her ice cream shop.

My husband and I stood firm. "Santa doesn't bring ice cream shops to 3-year-olds," we shrugged. Sorry -- not our fault.

But as Christmas approached, Cathy had been around the block a few times and wasn't falling for the same old lines. And the world according to Mark was more important than ever.

"Cathy," Mark squealed four times a day, "there's your ice cream shop on TV! Can you hardly wait till Christmas when Santa brings you one?"

"Oh, Mommy, Mommy, look what Santa's going to bring me!" my little parrot cried, jumping up and down on one foot and clapping her hands.

"Ooooooh, Caaaathy," I whined, "I don't think you reeeaaally want thaaaat."

"Yes I do, Mommy," Cathy insisted. "Markie says I do. Markie says Santa is going to bring me one. I can't wait!"

Well, what would you do? We debated for weeks. Would she really care on Christmas morning if she found a steam shovel under the tree instead of an ice cream shop? Maybe. Maybe not. But would you have risked your 3-year-old's Christmas smiles in the interest of a developmental toy? Neither did we.

We got the soda fountain. Mark was thrilled. Cathy was passingly interested, dutifully grateful and uncannily aware of the fact that Santa will bring you just about anything you ask for if you know how to ask.

I learned something, too. This year, I will be the first to plant the seeds of the "wants" in their fertile little minds. All I need do is convince them that they want what I want them to want, and they'll want it. Simple.

So the seeds I plant will be for educational toys, things they'll play with over and over, toys they'll find new uses for every day, that improve hand-eye coordination while stimulating social interaction and encouraging physical exercise.

The seeds I plant will be for the perfect toys -- a handful of common little rocks for Mark, and a few sticks from the Tree in the Corner of the Yard Where No One Ever Goes for Cathy. They'll love them.
SALON | Dec. 2, 1998

Anne Morrow Sampson is a freelance writer in Richland, Wash., and the mother of five children.

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