Nothing short of a “remarkably hot holiday item” will bump holiday season retail figures up to a level that will determine whether Christmas is “successful.”
That was according to University of Southern Indiana professor and marketing analyst Peggy Shields. But this AP story was dated October 20, and I’m sure things have changed. Nothing abhors a vacuum so much as the must-buy rack set aside for toys at Christmas.
Besides, every toy or game that my children see in every newspaper or TV ad becomes something they “must have.”
My five-year-old daughter is especially susceptible to the hypnotic spells of TV commercials for dolls and accessories.
“I want that!” She blurts the words out in the millisecond after the Bratz doll commercial first appears on the TV screen and before the announcer can utter even his first word. “Save your breath,” I say --- not to my daughter, but to the announcer in the TV spot itself. “You’ve already made the sale.”
The next “I want that” comes in 30 seconds.
“You can’t have everything that comes on,” I’d tell my little girl.
“Awwww,” she said, lower lip protruding in the pity-generating face every kid masters (and uses once or twice a year in a real injury, just to keep adults from accusing the kid of crying wolf. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze,” she cries, “I never get anything!!!”
Her whimper is heartfelt, but lasts only till the next commercial, or till the program resumes.
Last year, it dawned on me. I was a fool. It wasn’t that I actually bought much of this stuff. But I had been attempting the impossible: Trying to explain to a kid why the answer was “no.“ I may as well have been trying to preach the gospel to an ant colony.
This year, it’s different. A TV commercial for Barbie-as-Rapunzel pops on. She points and says, “I want that.” I say: “Okay.”
At first, her involuntary reaction system kicked in and she began to whine. Her older sister, now nine, and wiser in the ways of the carrot-and-stick game parents play with kids in regards to toys and behavior at Christmastime, brought things back into focus.
“Julia,” she said. “Dad said okay.”
Julia stopped dead in her tracks. She looked up at me with saucer eyes. “Really?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
A smile lit up her face. She lapsed into an imaginative world where candy canes danced and bigger-than-life waxed lips broke into Cab Calloway choruses.
Her idyll lasted just a few seconds. The next commercial had arrived, touting the big-headed Diva Starz doll set.
“I want that!” she exclaimed.
I was so anxious to give my answer, for my strategy to take root, that I almost blurted it out. But I held back, waited two beats, and deliciously doled out my answer.
“Okay.”
This time even the nine-year-old’s eyes widened. Her expression revealed a mixture of “how cool!” and “something stinks in Denmark.”
“Wheeee!” said the little one.
Next came an ad for the Polly Pocket Beachstyle SUV. Last year, I’d have railed against the oil industry’s indoctrination of our youth to the gas-guzzler camp.
“I want that!” she said.
“Okay,” I answered.
Spongebob Squarepants Huggable dolls.
“You got it,” I said.
Caillou Slippers.
“This, too, Dad?”
“Okay!”
“Wow,” she muttered, exhausted and delighted..
Then came the ad for Tonka Off-road 4x4 Haulers.
“I’ll get that for you,” I said.
“I don’t want that,” Julia answered.
“That’s okay, I’ll get it for you anyway.”
“It’s for boys.”
“I don’t mind,” I said.
“But Dad---”
Her objection was soon interrupted by the return of whatever’s the name of the current Olsen Twins sitcom.
I gave my daughters copies of the Toys ‘R Us catalogue. “Circle everything you want,” I said. You could almost hear the ink gurgling onto the paper. Both girls' selections added up to three figures in quantity, four in monetary value.
Last year I’d have take this occasion to teach them frugality, humility and moderation and challenge them to circle the catalogue in pencil, then go back and select only three items that “Santa” would consider. But then, that would make the catalogue a mere shopping list, not a book of dreams.
Every child is a born virtuoso. A few apply their talents to the piano or violin. But most simply play their parents, whom they know will say “no” but buckle to an “all right, okay!” if the child pushes the right buttons. (“The squeaky wheel gets the grease” is just Chinese fortune cookie for “Whining gets you what you want.“)
Thus, today's firm “no” is a rare thing. The phrase, “When I say no --- I mean no!”, seems like a quotation out of the distant past, something more likely to be said and meant by Douglas Macarthur than a mom in a supermarket.
So if “no” has deflated value, why not strike a balance and give “yes” the same worthlessness?
Because after all, most of the toys in all those ads never make it under my tree. And the only tears ever shed on Christmas morning come from the sisters taunting each other, a tradition that transcends the seasons.
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