Babes in toyland

I reckon parents buy toys as much for themselves as their kids. Well, I know I do. And it’s not always the right way to go about it. Case in point: the cubby house, swing, slide and soft-fall area we built in our backyard three years ago. I suffered serious cubby house envy when I was a kid, so I was determined the Sprogs wouldn’t be deprived. Times they have played in the cubby house? Nil. Times they have slid down the slide? Maybe twice under sufferance. Times they’ve swung on the swing? Now and then. I invite other families over occasionally, just so the stuff gets a workout. As other kids frolic on our play equipment, their parents get all misty eyed and start talking about how they should get something like that for their own backyard. I quickly set them straight. You see, the other golden rule of toys is that someone else’s are always more engaging than your own. Other follies of mine – Mr Potato Head. I got all obsessed and bought ever single permutation of Mr Potato Head I could find across three continents. Did my kids ever play with it? They did not. I ended up giving it to their cousins, who loved it whenever they came over to our place, but I’m betting never touched it after it arrived at theirs. Then came the Loving Family doll’s house phase. Oooh, I loved that one. I spent hours trawling Ebay to secure the perfect set of play equipment for its backyard. I filled every room with cute little furniture. Aside from when other kids came over and adored it, it just gathered dust in Sprog 1’s, then Sprog 2’s room. After that came the Zhu Zhu Pets stage. Not one to go about things half-heartedly, I got the exercise ball and wheel, the living room and bathroom, the spiral slide and skateboard ramp. They met with moderate success, so when Sprog 2 insisted the only thing she wanted for Christmas was the “guinea pigs who fighted with each other”, I succumbed. And she was rather fond of them on Christmas Day … Since then, not so much. My last weakness – before finally slapping some sense into myself – was Playmobil. All those cute little animals and vegetables and houses and stuff! I spotted the seductive blue boxes in a toy store and fell instantly in lust. Tracking down bargain Playmobil (it’s bloody expensive in Australia) became my new obsession. There’s a whole glorious zoo of the stuff lying neglected in the playroom. Sprog 1 has a birthday coming up soon. I’ve banned toys. We’re going for experiences instead – a cut-price horse ride picked up on Cudo, a trip to La Premiere with Nonna, a learn-to-hula session with her friends (oh, ok, and maybe a singing Gremlins doll, but it’s soooo cute …). They may be ephemeral, but at least I won’t seethe about them gathering dust in a corner.

TONIGHT’S MENU: Latina ravioli and plastic parmesan (Sprogs – have briefly given up on the battle to feed them anything with flavour); leftover lemony chicken stuff (Grown-ups).