what's in the box?

I don’t know who or what deserves the credit for this (though I’m happy to take it!), but my boys have had to be coaxed and prodded to come up with ideas for what they want for Christmas (which is the gift-giving holiday we celebrate in these parts). Is it my strictness? My older son’s natural semi-obliviousness (he really does live a lot of time inside his precious head)? Non-commercial TV?

I’ve written before about how I don’t buy many (or any) toys, which has led to a relatively sparse playroom. That’s changed in the time since I wrote it, largely because I’ve expanded the boys’ birthday-party experiences to other kids, not solely family (because in my family, the predominant gift is clothes and other necessities, or at least it was in the first few years of their lives, for which I’ve been grateful). So now they do have toys and games, but still they don’t sit around asking me for stuff, or grabbing the Toys R Us circular from the Sunday paper and pointing out their faves. In fact, a couple weeks ago, I showed them the Big Book of Toys or whatever R Us calls it, and they sort of lost interest.

Which does not mean they are not interested in toys; they are. But they aren’t knocking down Santa’s door listing the gifts they expect to receive. The ideas so far:

• Daniel: a microphone. A camera like mom’s.
• James: Cars racecars.

…aaaand, that’s it.

What do I want? Things I’m not getting anytime soon, if ever, such as a mudroom off my kitchen and my formerly-taut midsection. Things that are truly impossible, like more time in my week. And things that seem possible, but remain just out of reach. Like patience. And compassion, and peace.

Many years ago, my dad, at our request, made a short wish list. It read:

• socks
• shirts
• apres ski boots
• peace on earth

I don’t have perfect recall on this, but I’m pretty sure he at least got the socks.

Here’s what I’ll probably get for the boys: More Cars cars, and maybe something to keep them all in. Something art-related, and some books. Some chocolates and little toys for the stockings. A microphone (Daniel wants it, but they’ll sort-of share it). And my old digital camera, with a new battery and memory card to spruce it up.

Here’s what I want to give them:

• more years of un-greedy humility
• more time with their family, both young and old
• a desire, at least, for peace on earth

What are your gift plans for your children?

Who wouldn't want to spend time with Little Bear? Maybe Mother Bear made a cake!

The latest I hear about the basic-cable TV channel Noggin (“It’s like preschool on TV!”) is that it’s now called Nick, Jr.

Can commercials be far behind?

My husband and I (well, my husband, actually) stumbled upon Noggin while flipping through the many upper (as in, above 100) channels we have in our cable system. He happened to land on Noggin when it was airing a show no longer on the air that was a condensed version of Sesame Street (how it crossed over from PBS to Noggin, owned by Nickelodeon, we don’t know, but it caught our then-toddler’s attention). Then we realized that the channel was on all day, from 6 am to 6pm; that all the shows were slightly less than 30 minutes long; and that in between programs, rather than commercials, there were little interludes of music, or of Noggin-created characters Moose and Zee doing little preschool-esque lessons.

And so began our love affair with Little Bear, Little Bill, Backyardigans, Miffy and Maisy; our love-hate relationship with Franklin and Lazy Town, Dora and Diego, and The Wonder Pets; and our WTF is this? reaction to Wow, Wow, Wubbzy and Yo, Gabba Gabba.

I’m going to make an admission here, and I should also start setting aside a little money every month for my sons’ therapy later in life because of it: My kids, almost 7 and almost 5, still watch Noggin. (I mean, Nick, Jr.) Sure, it’s less of a pull than it used to be, but let’s face it: it’s preschool on TV! And my older guy is in sophisticated second grade!

Yet here’s what happens when I venture aloud to Daniel, the big guy, “you know, Daniel, maybe you’re too old for Little Bear.”

He gets upset with me.

And why not? Little Bear — as my dad said when he was over our house when it was on, and everyone ended up leaving the den but him, and when I came back I found him still watching and told him he could have changed the channel: “It’s a nice show.”

It IS nice. Oh, my husband and I make jokes about how one day the Bear family is going to realize their true nature and devour Hen and Duck, and there is of course endless mirth to be made out of Uncle Rusty (he emerges every now and then to help build a cabin or something, but mostly he seems to live in the woods, where there’s possibly a gay bar for bears, and Granny, Emily’s grandmother, who is drawn — on purpose? uncanny coincidence? — to look exactly like Barbara Bush.

But it’s sweet, and calming, and — best of all — it’s good for kids without being all in-your-face educational, which always comes off smarmy (think Dora. Shudder). It just is what it is, 25 minutes spent in a little forest glade with animals that talk and are good friends with each other and a little girl who spends summers in the woods with her grandmother.

Like Seinfeld, there’s no annoying growth or learning. Instead, there are cupcakes, and fish stew, and lemonade. And flights of fancy where the gang pretend-travels to the North Pole. And a giant moose, and a strange, wise frog, and Father Bear, in his dapper suit while at home, and in his Gorton’s Fisherman yellow raincoat when out on his boat, battling the wind, catching fish, and visiting foreign ports (oh, and rescuing a whale! That Father Bear!).

Thing is, I’ve never been in a giant hurry to push my boys to the “next step” in children’s entertainment. Because the “next step” inevitably involves action figures, commercials for cereal, candy and toys, and, well, the next step after that. I know parents who automatically shepherd their younger and younger kids to movies that aren’t made for them (but are instead made for the same cohort all commercial movies are made for these days: teenage boys, and young men).

My question is, once your kid’s watched Kung Fu Panda (which I did take the boys to; they didn’t like it. “Why do they keep fighting?” asked James), he’s not coming home and watching Little Bear. He wants the next thing, and that’s…. what? An Adam Sandler movie?

My kids (and I swear, it’s not because I restrict their access; I may be mean, but I don’t have a problem with TV, confident as I am that they do plenty else aside from watching it, and hey, I turned out okay!) have no idea who Ben 10 is, or Avatar (and frankly neither do I). If they’re happy with our friend the Bear, or with Handy Manny, or WorldWorld, or Curious George, or even the strange and wonderful residents of the Island of Sodor, who am I to tell them that most of their peers are watching the Star Wars movies, or Transformers?

And like I said, their interest in Noggin (oops, Nick, Jr.) is definitely waning. I’m not upset to see the back of Wubbzy (which gives me the same kind of get-me-out-of-here desperate feeling as when I’m trapped in phone-tree hell, or have a computer virus) or D.J. Lance of Yo Gabba Gabba. But I am sorta sorry to see Little Bear fade from our house.

I know my boys won’t remain in this bubble of TV innocence much longer, but I’m grateful to that bear family in the woods (and even supremely annoying Moose and Zee) for fending it off a bit longer.

Now, who’s up for some lemonade and cupcakes?

If you’ve been reading Confessions, you already know I don’t buy a lot of toys for my sons. I like toys, I honestly do, but there are few things I’d spend my money on (and before you think I’m truly awful or that my boys are playing with corncob dolls like Little House on the Prairie rejects, be aware that generous family members do buy them toys, some of which I like, some of which I grimace at while the boys play with them).

If I’m going to part with cash, in short, the item has to have longevity, creativity, and that all-important but possibly hard to grasp attribute: distraction-plus-learning. One of the best examples I’ve seen of a toy that offers kids learning fun and keeps them happily occupied in cars or happily away from each other (“Stop it!” “No, you stop it!”) are the LeapFrog toys.

How’d you like to have, for your very own, a LeapFrog Tag Reading System?

the LeapFrog Tag Reader

I’ve teamed up with a 9 other parenting blogs to give away these systems. The whole shebang — it comes loaded with The Cat in the Hat, and who doesn’t love that?, plus two bonus books — amounts to a $78 value.

The Tag system is a smart “pen” that you and/or your child runs over specially configured books. The pen “reads” the book aloud, and plays games related to the text.

Now, I’m not saying, “let’s all get one of these and then wash our hands of having to read to the little guys,” because reading is, as the old public-service commercials of my youth intoned, fundamental. (Anyone remember RIF?). But I am saying that, let’s face it, sometimes you need to plop the child down with a toy that you don’t mind him or her playing with while you do something else. That is, don’t throw out your hard copy of The Cat in the Hat (even though, if you’re anything like me and my husband, you don’t need the book anymore, because you can recite it by heart).

Here’s a review of the system by one of my fellow bloggers, Sarah of Parenting by Trial and Error.

Here’s all you have to do to have a chance to win:

Leave me a comment here about how you feel about reading to your child, versus having a device that reads to your child. I love things like this. We have a LeapFrog Math Desk, and I can tell you, it does not stop me from helping my son with adding and subtracting, but it does make me feel good to know that when he’s playing it’s not mindless. Well, not that any play is mindless, but you get my point.

Anyway, leave a comment for a chance to win (winners will be chosen randomly by random.org). You can also increase your shot by visiting the other blogs I’ve joined forces with, and leave comments on their LeapFrog contest posts. Here’s the list:

Blogging ‘Bout Boys

Frisco Kids

Blog Salad

Ready Mom

The Adventures of Supermom

3 Carnations

My Semblance of Sanity

World of Weasels

Parenting By Trial and Error

The contest ends September 23, 2009. Good luck — and as always, happy reading!

–Denise

A few of our favorite toys.

I was recently asked to write a guest-blog post for City Mommy, a local community website for moms in cities and towns around the country (you sign up, and access forums for local groups, and so on — a virtual coffee shop for moms). Anyway, I thought for a bit about what I might want to write about, and for some reason, toys leapt to mind.

Just the other day, on my way into James’ preschool for pickup, I ran into another mom on her way out with her son. They were happy to report that they were on their way to Toys R Us for a treat, because the boy had worn his new prescription glasses all day (no mean feat for a 5-year-old!). Said Glasses Boy’s mom: “When James heard me say we were going to Toys R Us, he said, ‘My mom never takes me there.’ ”

True!

Glasses Boy’s mom thought this was hilariously funny. “I told James you probably go there plenty without him,” she said. I just shrugged. Not really.

What I find with my sons — and I know I’m not alone here — is that they’ll rediscover toys they haven’t played with in months. Right now, their latest must-do is setting up train tracks (thanks for those, Aunt Debbie!), and re-creating scenes from “Thomas and Friends” with their small collection of trains (thanks again, Aunt Debbie, and whoever else gave us Thomas trains over the years!). Here’s this morning’s setup:

Hours of amusement (well, an hour at least).

We have what I think is a perfectly acceptable amount of toys, but the vast majority of them — I’m no mathematician, but I’m thinking about 90-95% — were gifts. (That number got a big bump up after I threw the boys their first kid-birthday party last fall.)

So that’s what I wrote about in my guest-blog post for City Mommy. Go take a look, then come back and tell me about the state of your toybox.