MEMORIES AT THE BIG BOX TOY STORE
I am going to miss heading to the big box toy store because it holds many memories of me waiting for hours as my kids ran up and down the aisles wanting everything. I am also not going to miss waiting for hours as my kids ran up and down the aisles wanting everything.
I also remember the spectacular toy fads that turned parents into battling zombies. Aside from the carnage caused by people fighting over the last Cabbage Patch doll, the peace-disturber that really stands out for me is the Tickle Me Elmo toy.
His intentional scarcity was in stark contrast to his two cousins, Big Bird and Zoe, who didn’t say anything so there was plenty of them on the shelves. People slept outside toy stores in hopes of crawling into the next arriving crate of the furry tomatoes. News clips showed delirious parents high-fiving after zealously scoring the few remaining Elmos. A black market even emerged whereby dregs dyed Zoes, then stuffed them with giggle makers and applied high markups.
And anyone remember Tamagotchi’s Gotcha!? The nervy liquid crystal knick-knack with a name that sounded like something herds of hazing high school students inflicted on freshmen in the locker-room was a large pill with the fuzzy image of some beast that beeped when it was supposedly hungry, pining for a jog or more than likely bored with its owner. If its inorganic buttons were not pushed, be it 4:17 a.m. or while its owner was invested in something less important like open heart surgery, it died.
For only $19.99 plus GST you could chain yourself to a room service ringing, sterilized slag that threatened to scotch itself if you didn’t remove yourself from reality and constantly feed it like it was a parking meter.
I will remember Toys “R” Us for its amazing variety of dolls.
Bendy Wendy bended into a zillion zany positions. Baby Alive sipped and chewed. Rosie held hands and sang. (Is this starting to sound like an in-laws party at your house?) Remember Baby Headstand Surprise?
Water Babies were filled with warm water to feel cuddly and wiggly. L’il Makin’ Faces were makin’ faces when poked in the tummy. Suzie Stretches stretched up to five feet. Baby Sip N Slurp also wet itself.
Wetting capability ranked high on the list of desired lifelike features which also included burping, hiccupping, sniffling, sneezing and blowing into your tissue. These dolls had more lifelike features than some people I knew.
There were also plenty of animal dolls. Dogs that backflipped. Chimps that chattered when shaken. Jungle kittens that purred when their heads were tilted. Playtime Farm Friends featured pigs that wiggled their ears and oinked when you rubbed the tops of their snouts. (Don’t all men?)
In all of this commotion, placid teddy bears just sat and gazed into a time when children relied more on their imaginations because their darned dolls weren’t nuts.
Yet one toy masterpiece endured: Barbie, the worldfamous chemical blond doll.
Within her own dedicated aisle, I could not believe the bagatelle designed to complement the natty glamourpuss. The substantial section, not so much a display as a shrine, offered everything from Barbie slippers for her petite feet to pancake for her darling face.
Although I was prepared for the Barbie bedlam of juicers, coffee makers, three-piece wall units, wedding chapels, pet parlours and horse trailers (Barbie loves to ride), I could not have foreseen the tiers of Barbie alter egos: Bubble Angel, Cut and Style Hair, Tropical Splash (not to be confused with the Barbie Baywatch series), Winter Sport, and Dance Moves Barbie with limbs that flex at angles impossible for mere mortal Barbie.
Then there were the collector dolls: The Barbies Polynesian, Irish, Native American, German, Dutch, Kenyan, Chinese and Scarlet O’Hara — all priced like Royal Doultons.
To think, when I was a kid, I was impressed with Mr. Potato Head.
Come to think of it, I am going to miss going to the big box toy store, with its future in Canada still uncertain at this point.