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Christmas Carnage

01/01/2011

originally posted in OCFamily Tuesday, 28 December 2010

My mom had a friend growing up who didn’t have her same penchant for designing and decorating a home.  Instead, she lived by her self titled “Kay Malm Theory” which states that if one tchotchke looks good on the wall, 20 are proportionally that much better.

They are not.

This has become teemingly clear as Christmas has come and gone, and left me with the wondering of the season, enough cardboard to fashion a homeless city and more toys than a 4-year old can possibly envisage.  My son Jackson is blessed three sets of grandparents and numerous family friends, many who spoil him like Yoko spoiled the Beatles.

Jack has added Star Wars figures to his stable of action figures:  Toy Stories 1-3, Ben10 Alien Force, Iron Men, Supermen, and Batmen (all plural).  His three sets of TRIO™ easy-click bricks have augmented his collection blocks, foam builders, Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs and seven sets of Lego’s in three different sizes.  He also has a dad who buys him miniature stuff that he likes, so he also got a set of golf clubs, aluminum bat and glove, a Black & Decker work bench, Wii games and a talking globe.

And though he was confused because Santa didn’t bring him the Hot Wheels he asked for (he has 150 of them already), he is not a greedy child.  He’s appreciative and verbally thankful, though visibly overwhelmed.  If he weren’t such a good kid, he probably wouldn’t get so indulged.  He’s not rocking Seven toddler jeans and sporting an mini-electric H2 Hummer, but he doesn’t want for much and certainly doesn’t need a thing.

My much belabored point is that it’s all too much.  It’s too much to take in for a guy who’s just learning to spell (Jack, not me… I’ve been spelling for years now).  It’s too much for a parent to keep track of, and in this economy, it even seems gluttonous.

So I don’t subscribe to the theory that more is better, but I really don’t have one of my own.  I can tell you this, if my kid ever acts like the “Little Boy Gets Mad…” of YouTube fame, I’ll wade though the wrapping and tissue-paper carnage and flesh out my theory in haste.

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