It’s time to break the cycle of torture and abuse that all new parents suffer at the hands of their more experienced friends and family.
First-time mums and dads across the nation are shaking in anticipation of the onslaught they’re about to face.
Christmas is coming and it can only mean one thing. They’ll be initiated into The Parenthood with an arsenal of bright, plastic, NOISY junk.
Thud’ll be 18 months old this Christmas, and it is compulsory (apparently) to give toddlers ALL the noisy toys. ALL the noisy toys that have EVER BEEN MADE.
Everyone who has ever had a child, knows that noisy toys are THE WORST. They are torturous.
Last Christmas Thud got The Animal Train. I will sing that train’s song until the day they turn my cold, dead corpse into diamond earrings.
He received a delightful musical turtle for his first birthday that makes me want to weep. He has a rolling ball thingy that sounds like a room full of poker machines hitting jackpot. It’s going to give me PTSD.
Every mother in existence has looked at her child with a sad, furrowed brow, confused eyes and hands stretched wide and said in a baby voice “Oh no! Broken!!”
It’s not broken, you lying cow. It’s perfectly fine and you are taking advantage of the fact that he hasn’t yet figured out where the on/off switch is. Just you wait until he DOES figure that out. Then you’re fucked.
Despite the common knowledge that these toys will drive parents to the brink of insanity, children are still unwrapping these instruments of torture on the daily. Birthdays, Christmas, Christenings and Name Days…. We’re keeping Duracell afloat.
But who’s giving these pain-inducing pieces of poo?
What’s your game, you sneaky bastards!?
You KNOW better. You KNOW this is pain. You KNOW this will bring nothing but tears.
My husband is ex-military. There may or may not be such a thing as “hazing” in the military. I’m not saying there is, because it’s completely wrong and very frowned upon. But some people may suggest that it goes on. Apparently. Allegedly.
I’ve always been a bit intrigued by the practice. Hazing can take many forms but it’s always a ritualistic series of activities designed to embarrass, humiliate and sometimes physical hurt the victims. It’s a super fun* way to initiate new people into a group!
It happens to the new kids. It’s done by the older kids. Who were once the new kids. Who were once hazed themselves. Who know, better than anyone, how unpleasant it is. How humiliating and hurtful it is.
And yet, the second they’re finished being hazed themselves, they start planning how they’ll haze the next group of newbies.
Because, you know, if they had to endure it, why should the next group miss out? Why should they got off, scot-free?
So, to all the more experienced parents out there, I’m asking you to ‘fess up. You do it, don’t you? You wander the toy aisle and pick up the hideous, ear-piercing pieces of plastic junk and smile to yourself. You think “Ha! Perfect! They’re going to HATE this one” and then you chuck it in your shopping basket.
Of course, when my friends have their first babies, I’ll be giving them all one of these.
Is there a term for toy room shell-shock?
*not at all fun.
What’s your most hated toy?
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