As a child growing up in the early ’90s, I longed for an Easy-Bake Oven. All my friends had one—or so I told my parents. I imagined whipping up delightful treats and maybe even starting a little bakery business! When Christmas arrived, I found the coveted toy under the tree, complete with fun accessories. However, after producing a few sad muffins and burning my finger, it quickly found its way to the back of my closet, and I moved on to the next trendy toy.
While I can recall a few cherished toys from my childhood, my fondest memories involve imaginative play with my brothers in the cozy confines of our bunk beds. With just a few blankets, we could create entire worlds—exploring space or embarking on cross-country adventures. We spent countless hours biking through the woods and enjoying summers with our grandparents, who had no toys but provided endless joy and connection.
Now, as a parent to my daughter Mia, I initially vowed that she wouldn’t become another child drowning in a sea of toys. Yet, somehow, in less than three years, she has accumulated a staggering collection of stuffed animals and plastic trinkets. While it’s easy to blame generous relatives, I admit to buying my fair share of items because I see something cute and think, “Mia would love that!” But like many kids, she often ignores new toys or plays with them briefly before returning to her old favorites.
As early as Halloween, people began asking what Mia wanted for Christmas. Honestly? She’s two. She delights in wearing my flip-flops around the house and riding our dog—far more than she desires any actual toys. What she truly needs is my time and attention. She thrives on reading, coloring, and running free; none of these require more stuff.
This year, I’m embarking on a new holiday tradition. Instead of buying toys, I’ll purchase a book and some craft supplies. Together, we will create, read, and share experiences. I plan to take her to choose a toy for a child in need, and we’ll deliver it to a local charity. I will also make a donation to a cause, helping her understand the importance of generosity. I want her to experience the holidays as they should be—focused on gratitude, family, and the joy of connection.
When the inevitable influx of gifts arrives from relatives, we’ll discuss what to keep and what to donate, emphasizing why we don’t need so much stuff. My goal is to teach Mia that Christmas shouldn’t just be about her. Instead, I want her to question the materialism surrounding the holidays and to think critically about what she sees in advertisements and traditions. It’s important for her to know that challenging the status quo is sometimes the right choice, and that we can find happiness in less clutter.
Ultimately, I want to navigate my home without tripping over an array of colorful plastic toys.
In summary, our children can find joy in experiences and connection rather than accumulating toys. This holiday season, I am committed to creating meaningful memories with my daughter that emphasize generosity, gratitude, and creative exploration rather than consumerism.