curmudgeon mom immunizes against commercialism

The kids pick whatever action figures they want out of the tubs of action figures that vendors bring to flea markets and sell for five cents a piece. I try not to tell them anything about the characters they're playing with, because I want them to dream and create and not be owned by corporations. But I don't have complete parental agreement on this. The Daddio believes that Disney and all those Viacom brands are not a grand cradle to grave marketing scheme but a modern form of art. I can get on board with that out to about Lego, but show me brand loyalty to something much bigger and I'm going to think you're a sucker whose mind has been eaten up by advertising.

My nameless action figure scheme has worked out okay with the Hero so far. He loves Batman, but he still makes up his own heroes using those nickel toys. But now he's learning to read,* demanding to know what everything says, wanting paper all the time so he can copy words. He's able to independently connect logos he has seen with things he has heard his brothers talk about. It's making a bit of a difference.

This morning he brought me a little Lion King figure he rarely plays with. You look inside of it to see a picture. He places it startling close to my eye. "What does this say, Mama?"

"It says 'Disneyland.'"

His face lights up with recognition and he sucks his breath in. "I want to go to Disneyland for my birthday!"

"That's exactly what this thing is designed to make you want. It's not a toy; it's an ad. And it's stealing your own imagination. Do you even remember now what you really wanted for your birthday?"

The Hero didn't remember what he had wanted for his birthday. He managed to whimper just, "noooo," before he crumpled to the floor in tears at the loss of his imagination.

I may have laid it on too thick.


**Yesterday he copied WINDMASTER off the machine in my bedroom, brought his note to me, and said, "Look, I spelled 'fan'." When I say he's learning to write, I mean he's doing that pretend spelling thing that counter-intuitively becomes real spelling if you play along and say, "Oh, yes!" and a hatred of spelling if you are always ready with a, "Well, actually". It's pretty exciting because three months ago I saw no interest or even pre-reading skills.