Chronicles of Chaos

March 19, 2008 | Print

Amelia’s New Doll

We’re at the farmer’s market on Sunday. Every week, we satisfy our individual cravings at the market–I’d like to say our desires for delicious fruits and vegetables, but it would not be true.

Michael has his coffee, I get granola, Wyatt hangs at the Belgian waffle stand, Oliver must have his honey stick–and Amelia’s recent favorite is to sit with Truth and her dolls.

They dress dolls, comb hair and tie ribbons. Amelia could sit with Truth all day. When we arrive this particular Sunday, I remind Amelia that we’re not getting a new doll. Amelia sets up camp next to Truth, says, “I know Mommy” and waves me away.

Michael and I divide up the boys and the shopping list. Half an hour later I find everyone back at the doll stand. Truth is sewing eyes onto a doll body. Amelia announces to our crowd, “My doll will be ready in twenty minutes.”

I look at Michael who raises his what-can-I-do-she-got-me eyebrows. Our friend, and dad of a daughter, turns to me and affirms Michael had no way out.

I used to consider this habit of getting the kids stuff because they ask for it a character trait (flaw?) of Michael’s–then I started paying attention to other dads’ habit of doing the same thing. My sampling is small, the assessment likely unfair. And yet I can’t forget sitting at an art fair with a dad complaining about a cheap stuffed lizard he just bought his kids–because they made me, he said.

It’s the No Win script. They don’t want to but they have to because otherwise something terrible will happen. The kids will get upset and stop functioning, or the dads will feel cruel if they deprive a lovely child of something desired so deeply. The item is purchased, the child is happy, the dad manipulated (left feeling swindled or cornered).

The ship is sailing on Amelia’s doll, I say nothing. I do feel that I’m failing in my counter-materialism lesson from the current parenting book by my bed, The Price of Privilege: How Parental Pressure and Material Advantage Are Creating a Generation of Disconnected and Unhappy Kids.

I suppose the win is Michael and I talking about the situation later and how we might have managed it better, or not. A handmade doll at the farmers market feels differently than a toy from the mall–to us, and I think to the kids. The problem is that Amelia has another handmade doll at home. The idea is that the dolls are special and one is enough. The second doll feels indulgent.

When Amelia gets home, she sets up the dolls together at the table for lunch, then they go for their naps. Later they return for dinner, their clothes swapped. At night she builds beds with pillows and tucks them in with blankets. They’re having a slumber party she explains.

I’m feeling less concerned about the excess of multiple dolls. I do think back to the moment we say yes to her ask, and the pieces that go into our decision of yes or no. A candy at the drugstore is simple, the real materialism moments are more nuanced.

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