Refurbished

Within our immediate family I am legendary for a number of things, not all of them good. 

I will go down in familial history for my mashed potatoes and my barbecue, and that at least is not a bad legacy.

A girl could do much worse.

Another thing -- neither good nor bad in my estimation -- is that when my kids were little, I had an ironclad rule regarding toys.

As in, if the market began buzzing with a popular, sought-after plaything that every parent wanted under the tree on Christmas morning even more than their kid wanted to discover it there, I ran in the other direction as fast as I could go.

For example, my children never owned a Cabbage Patch Kid.

Not only did I consider them creepy (the smashy-faced dolls; not my kids), but no way was I ever going to stand in a line to get my hands on a toy just because twenty million other parents kids had an aching desire to acquire it.

In the dawn of the nineties, nearly a decade after Hasbro's My Little Pony became the toy to beat, I finally picked one up and held it in my hand while shopping. 

Finding the diminutive plasti-rubber fantasy pastel equine units -- no longer galloping off the shelves like in 1983 -- would set me back only five bucks apiece, I decided to get one for each of my girls.

I can't remember whether they were all nauseatingly scented (a revolting idea, come to think of it), but I do know the one I chose for Audrey had a disgusting built-in treacly aroma.

Audrey was seven or eight years old. She unwrapped her My Little Pony on Christmas morning and carried it around all day.

That evening she remembers beginning to feel a trifle unwell. Too many Christmas cookies? she wondered.

The memory is vivid. Audrey describes putting her head down on the kitchen table at Grandma's house, the sugary effluvia of her turquoise sparkly-maned My Little Pony still wafting up her nose.

Not long after, in order to be more comfortable, she moved to the couch. That's when it happened.

Audrey, having gotten one whiff too many of chemical-infused MLP, pitched her cookies onto the polyester-panted leg of an elderly relative.

(If I'm not mistaken I finally caved on buying Care Bears too ... but not till years after they were so hot an item, people were known to uncaringly maim or kill for them. And unscented ... always unscented.)

Fast forward to 1998. Audrey, by then fifteen, had recovered nicely from the MLP debacle and still consumed at least as many Christmas cookies annually as the number of the calendar year.

As I recall, she became enamored of the toy craze of that era: Furby.

Possibly because of commercials like this one, clearly aimed at younger females but finding their mark with teenaged girls as well:

As we have previously established, rules were made to be broken.

Audrey made her wishes known to me and for reasons I cannot explain -- guilt, perhaps? -- I went on a Furby-finding frenzy.

Christmas of 1998 I was working at a law firm in downtown Columbus, Ohio. Several blocks away loomed the massive City Center high-rise shopping mall.

(I understand Columbus City Center was torn down in 2009. Fine by me!)

At any rate there was a big toy store there and I found out they had Furbys.

Only, no sooner did the Furbys arrive on the truck from the faraway Furby factory than they were filched by fast, furious, fervent Furby-fanciers.

I'm not sure if you've figured this out yet -- paying attention, are we? -- but I have an obsessive personality.

I HAD TO HAVE A FURBY FOR AUDREY FOR CHRISTMAS.

One day, from my padded cubicle, I called the toy store where I knew they were attempting to keep Furbys in stock. Not only did I want a Furby but I had my heart set on one of a certain color.

(This would have been one of those times to ask oneself the acid-test query: In ten years, will this matter? But I didn't. I never ask that question because if I did, I would accomplish nothing.)

Learning that they had the Furby about which I fantasized, I took an early lunch and ran the blocks between work and the mall.

Arriving at the store sucking wind and with a stitch in my side, I found dozens of greedy, potentially evil consumers already queued up to purchase the scant available Furbys.

Let's cut to the chase: I got one. As I remember it, I paid about thirty dollars.

Outrageous! That is an outrageous amount to pay for a stupid toy that looks like a demented owl and has trouble waking up and when it does, only rolls its bulging eyes and makes unintelligible bleating noises!

The other day Audrey sent me a YouTube of an old Furby commercial similar to the one posted above. In a flurry of emails we were both virtually howling at memories of 1998, a/k/a the Infamous Furby Christmas.

For awhile there we cyber-partied like it was the Twentieth Century.

Well. Word on the street is, Furbys are hot again this year.

And if you thought the old Furbys were weird, wait till you see the new ones! 

With huge plastic ears and glowing LED screens for eyes, they're positively diabolical.

And they cost upwards of sixty-five dollars.

In preparation for this post I opened an upstairs closet and hauled out a laundry basket overflowing with old-but-still-good stuffed animals, to include beanie babies and the odd novelty toy.

A few favorites still talk when you press their bellies! Like the fierce-faced karate bear that makes karate-chop type noises, and the Taco Bell Chihuahua that orders: Yes! Drop the chalupa!

On Allissa's recent overnight visit, among other things she and I went to Wal-Mart.

I asked her what she wanted for Christmas. Without hesitation she began describing a stuffed animal that doubles as a handy pillow and as the coup de grace, makes stars appear on the ceiling of your room.

Five minutes (or less) later, Allissa's toy-dar led us directly to a convenient display of said costly but clever kid attention-catchers.

Turns out the item in question was the new Pillow Pets Dream Lites: The Night Lite That Turns Your Room Into A Starry Sky! 

She'd seen it in a TV commercial. It's printed right on the box: As Seen On TV.

Lissy was dazzled by the Fluttery Butterfly, and she found one and showed it to me. To keep my heart from breaking, I asked her which species of Pillow Pets Dream Lites she thought her sister Melanie would enjoy having.

Allissa is accustomed to talking for Melanie, who cannot tell us (in so many words) what she wants.

I wish you could have seen my granddaughter's face as she studied the display and chose the one she thought would suit Melly's taste.

Passing over the Perky Penguin and Snuggly Puppy, she settled on the Rainbow Unicorn.

"This one for Melanie," she told me.

"Okay, well, that's interesting," I said, pulling her away. I didn't want her to see the tears in my eyes. As we shoved off I took note of the asking price.

Only twenty-nine eighty-eight! Isn't that reasonable!

I put the word out and in due course, Aunts Audrey and Erica pledged to pool their racehorses and purchase the PPDL in Fluttery Butterfly for Allissa.

TG and I decided we'd like to get the PPDL in Rainbow Unicorn for Melanie's Christmas.

Finding a bargain on this particular piece of treasure proved difficult so we paid twenty-nine ninety-nine plus tax at Best Buy*.

Here's hoping Melly loves her soft confetti-colored Rainbow Unicorn with its furry pink horn and curved-plate back of cutout star shapes, and that she squeezes it until softly-glowing stars just fill up her little sky to bursting.

Lissy too, with her Fluttery Butterfly.

And I hope they both wish on every last one of those stars, and that all their wishes come true, and then some.

I hope you get what you're looking for, hoping for, wishing for, and dreaming of this Christmas too. Even if what you've got your heart set on is a next-gen Furby.

If I were there I'd give you a big hug and say I love you. Because I do.

That is all.

*You found a Pillow Pets Dream Lites in the animal you were after, at another store, or online, for less than twenty-nine eighty-eight? Good for you! Keep it to yourself, 'k?

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Merry Christmas! Two more weeks!

Comments

[Debbie]

What a trip down memory lane.

I remember, and purchased, the Cabbage Patch Doll;

My Little Pony complete with house or whatever came as accessories;

Strawberry Shortcake including comforter, canopy, sheets, PJ's;

Barbie et al;

Monchichi;

Care Bears;

Mr. Potato Head;

Slinky;

And on and on.

I can't keep up with the toys these days. We have one grandson, no granddaughters, and he is a 15 year old young man.

[Mari]

You've taken me on a little time travel! I never was one of the hoards trying to get certain toys, but my kids did take part in all the toys mentioned. Laura and Heather both had Cabbage patch dolls. They were ugly, but loved for many years. My little ponies pranced around my house - a small herd of them or so it seemed. None of them were scented though. We saw the ad for Furbies the other day and Heather reminded me that they had Furbies, and also those crazy Tamagotchi pets. They were little square things, with a pixelated dog picture. They needed to be fed, walked, put to sleep... and somehow my kids rooked me into taking care of them while they were in school. Crazy!
So what do you think Alaina will think she needs when she gets older? So far, she's too little to get sucked in by what everyone else is playing with!

[glenda]

Well, I won't even go back all the way to say what my children got in the way of toys. It would date me.....Buuut.....grandchildren, now there I can say that the first two Kristin and Katie had their hearts set on dollhouses that they adored and Jim and I made sure we set out very soon to secure the right ones. And we did our thing with Furby. My mother liked Furby so much we even got her one. Go figure!! Then with Tyler his first Christmas he was only six months old so I remember lots of cute clothes and stuffed animals. And, K, I won't mention the thing I have for Ethan, but, I paid the same price you did gir............G.

[Donna (Texas)]

Awwwww! I Love the Furbabies too...in fact, I love All of these!
You're a Wonderful Grandma!!!
And I love you Toooo!!
hughugs

[Skunkfeathers]

I can't recall being enamored of any one item any one Christmas. I do remember, however, there was some kind of collectible toy craze in the '90s into the New Millennium, that were collected at McDonalds...still can't remember what they were (not Beanie Babies, I don't think). Anyway, an online friend wrote to me and every other friend she had, DESPERATE to obtain the two most hard-to-find ones (she was in Pennsylvania, and apparently there were none to be had within 3 hours drive time for her). Moved by her plight (for possibly the last time, ever), I actually sat down and called every listed McDonalds in the Denver Metro area, looking for either of the things she was DESPERATE for. And there was not a one to be had. When I contacted her with my "nada", she asked me to check anywhere along the Front Range. Really???? Ft. Collins to Pueblo??? When I told her I didn't have time for that, she quit communicating with me. Ever since, when it comes to 'collectible' toys of any kind...I ain't "in" ;-)

[Glenda]

Oh, and BTW, I could go for those legendary mashed 'taters and barbecue about now! ......G.

[Audrey]

Ha! I laughed out loud several times. One of your funniest yet.