Toy Technology I’d Pay For

Elijah has a favorite toy, a stuffed Bob the Builder doll, which he sleeps with every night.

For some unknown reason, Bob and the thirty (slight exaggeration) other stuffed creatures that inhabit Lij’s bed every night must be brought downstairs every morning. If they don’t get taken down before breakfast, you can bet that by Dylan’s morning nap they’ll all be gathered at the foot of the stairs. And for the most part that’s where they all stay.

You see, even stranger than the fact that all his toys must accompany him downstairs each morning is the reality that once downstairs these toys do not receive even one minute of playtime.

Yep. He brings them down. They set up poly-fil base camp at the bottom of the stairs. They sit there all day. And then Alex and I are forced to carry each and every single one (plus two kids) back up the stairs each night. Because not having them in bed at night is apparently just as bad as not having them downstairs during the day.

However, Bob is the exception. He accompanies Lij just about everywhere. To the bathroom for diaper changes. To the store to get groceries. To the hardware store (of course) to get whatever we forgot the last twenty times we were there this week.

I think this sort of toy devotion is cute. It doesn’t bother me. Neither does the bottom of the stairs poly-fil base camp if truth be told. These are some of the things that make Lij the sweet, delightful, creative and slightly trying toddler I know and love. So I put up with them. I even enjoy them at times. But what I don’t enjoy is Bob’s tendency to wander.

Since he is well-travel, Bob is frequently MIA at bedtime. If it was any other toy, its absence might escape Elijah’s attention. But no Bob on the bed means no bedtime. This is a rule. Like we don’t hit our brother and we don’t eat sweets before dinner. Only this rule MUST be obeyed. If Bob is absent, Lij will lie in bed calling “Ba. Ba? BA!!!” until we find the wayward Builder and place him firmly under his arm.

So, on Friday night, I was frantically digging under couch cushions while Alex torn apart the car looking for Bob, and something occurred to me. They have dolls that count. They have dolls that know the alphabet. They have dolls that even know your child’s name and keep track of their toddler schedules. Why can’t they build dolls with homing devices? That way I would have known that Bob was on the kitchen counter under Dylan’s jacket and above a stack of library books. I would have saved several trips up and down the stairs trying to reassure Lij that we would in fact locate Bob. And when I finally took Bob into Lijah’s room, I might have been greeted by a “Dew Jew (thank you), Mommy” instead of a “Baaaaa?” because I had apparently taken too long to find the stupid doll.

So if any toymakers from Toyland happen to be reading this post, forget the counting. Who cares about phonics? Give me a GPS tracking system any day. Now that’s toy tech I’d pay money for.