Under wraps
It’s been several years since I’ve had a small child for whom to buy presents. Now there’s my great nephew Riley and a friend’s daughter, Winter.
Because I am not completely oblivious to children, I am aware they like noisy stuff with lots of blinky lights. I am willing to oblige since the toys go home with the little darlings (this is a policy that does not thrill my niece, but she’s nearly polite enough not to complain). Further, if a toy looks ugly to me, it is probably very popular. There’s no other way to explain My Little Pony and the Bratz girls. Now come on, are those feet creepy, or what?
What really startles me these days is the packaging. In my day, you simply opened the box and played with the toy. No more. Packaging today involves reinforced cardboard, shrink wrap, glue, plastic retaining strips, filament tape, wire, and bubble wrap. All on the same toy. To open, you will need scissors, a box cutter, screwdriver, your teeth, and a bench saw. You will break a minimum of three finger nails and use language that you thought you had abandoned back in your schoolyard days.
Caution: You need to get that plastic-coated garrote off the neck of Dolly Despair or the Revenge Raider of Doom and get it off quickly or the poor soul may be critically wounded. Note the balloon heads of Cloe, Sonya, and the rest of the Bratz pack; clearly they have suffered this fate.
It’s as frustrating to pay for the packaging as it is to open it. Millions of foreign workers are required to strap Playful Puppy’s paws to that backboard or to individually wrap each xylophone key. I used to complain about assembling the toy … now I complain about assembling the package.
I guess we can all rest assured that, in case of nuclear attack, the merchandise in our toy stores will be safe from damage. And if Homeland Security would just consult with the package makers, nobody would ever penetrate our borders again.