Why the Christmas Spirit Now Requires a USB Cord and a Password

Throughout the years, I have learned a lot about the toys I want my kids to have for Christmas.

That's right.  The toys I want them to have.

I pretty much avoid anything that says "Assembly Required" because if it has more than 5 pieces, that's the equivalent to at least 3 glasses of wine and I'm never quite sure what the end result will be.  I try not to buy anything inflatable because I discovered last year that I don't have the lung capacity to blow up a sled the size of Mt. Rushmore.  And I have learned to stay away from anything that says "Fur Real" on it because what that really means is that it's "Fur Really Creepy."

I figured out that lesson a few years ago when I bought my daughter the "Fur Real" cat (which should be renamed the "Pet Cemetery Cat") that has a motion sensor in it I could never figure out how to turn off.  Every time I went into the closet where I had hidden the presents and that cat would turn its head and look at me, I just about soiled myself.

That was also the year my son was the lucky recipient of the "Fur Real" Macaw that he quickly discovered could record what he was saying and repeat it back to him.

All I can say is that that Macaw has a filthy mouth.

But now, I'm outnumbered by older and wiser children who really don't want to hear my helpful suggestions for Christmas.  Last night, I brought them to Toys R Us, hoping to get a little more insight into what they wanted which was big mistake because I quickly realized that their Christmas lists would be better taken care of at Best Buy than an actual toy store.

My stomach clenched with fear as my son pointed out the complex gaming system he was hoping to get, knowing that I would never be able to set it up on my own.  I tried steering him over to the stack of "retro" Atari's on the shelf (God, am I really old enough to be considered retro??) which were cheaper and something I felt sure I could handle.

He looked at me like I had Frogger growing out of my head and said, "Mom.  We can get that stuff for, like, $1 on Ebay."

Silly me.

They've pretty much outgrown the entire center of the store because most of that section doesn't require batteries, a USB cord, or some sort of password they will forget within minutes and then wail about the rest of the day until I can figure out how to reset it.  Even my youngest daughter let me down.  At 6 years old, she is apparently too old for Barbies, has no interest in dress-up, and can't stand the thought of getting something that doesn't have a port in which to plug in headphones.

My son didn't help when he led her over to the DSi selection and said, "Look at these.  Aren't they shiny?  And look at that pink one?  Isn't it pretty?"

I watched as her little face pressed against the glass of the case and I knew I had lost the battle.

Good golly, my parents had it easy.  Okay, so my dad made me a dollhouse one year, I'll give him that one.  But other than that...what did we get?  My sister got a cat one year so all that was really required was poking holes in a box.  I asked for a Cabbage Patch Kid which my mom, ever the planner, actually bought months in advance, sensing the Cabbage Patch Frenzy that was to come.  And then there was that year they gave us both sleeping bags.

Yeah.  I bet they stayed up all night rolling those bad-boys out under the Christmas tree.

It's not even December yet and I'm already feeling the stress.  It kind of makes me wish that I had started promoting a family celebration this year more like Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote about in "Little House on the Prairie."  I'm daydreaming about my kids dipping into their stockings, bringing out shiny pennies for all to admire or the treat of an orange that they could enjoy later in the day.

As it is right now, I have a feeling if I put an orange in my son's stocking I would probably hear only one thing.

"Hey, Mom.  Where do you put the batteries in this thing?"