Months before my daughter turned 6 in June, she had been coveting the Furby. Her first encounter with this furry, talking toy-creature had been, predictably, at a Toys R Us. Its freakishly big, glassy eyes with its perky eyelashes seemed to call out, “Take me home little girl & I will be your friend forevahhhhh.”
To my classically middle child, the Furby seemed to be the answer to her sense of feeling left. “Please, Mummy…Furby…Furby…” “No. It’s too expensive.” This dialogue went on for months and her Furby-fervor only grew more fervent with each encounter.
- In the toy store catalogue: “Buy any 2 Furby Boom! & get 1 Free Furbling.” (“A Furby family!” she squealed).
- At a neighbor’s house: “Mummy, I could REALLY talk to the Furby!” (It was a rather mature Furby).
- In the school bus: “There’s even a small baby Furby…please, please, can I have THAT one? It’s cheaper!”
Not once did I give in. And it wasn’t just because the Furby is expensive, but because for some inexplicable reason I found something a bit sinister with the Furby. Perhaps, it reminded me of characters from childhood horror movies?
To make a long story short, well, my mother arrived for a visit. And we know what happens when Grannies arrive. My darling daughter got her Furby for her birthday. And OH. BOY. That thing just does not stop talking! We were completely unprepared for the unleashing of all that gibberish. Our neighbor later on informed us that once Furby gets into a routine it even randomly wakes up in the middle of the night and starts clamoring to be fed. Fortunately, I was not the only one who grew increasingly annoyed by the Furby’s incessant chattering. It’s lively enough in our home with three little ones, throw Furby into the mix and it gets overwhelming. We’ve even started tip-toeing around the Furby when it’s asleep, “shhhhhh…don’t wake the Furby up!” my husband would snarl. This was before he discovered you could only wake it up by tugging on its tail.
But this is the strange thing about toys that are anthropomorphous, you can’t just put them away that easily. And so, darling daughter refuses to remove Furby’s batteries. From time to time she feeds it by sticking her finger in his mouth and has a five-minute chat before its incessant wiggling and noise takes over. At which point, she returns him to his place of exile (for now)–a lone shelf in the corner of a spare room and rushes to play with the parent & family-approved new It Toy, her Rainbow Loom.
Just curious: Are you averse to trendy toys and stick to the classics like LEGOs?
Written by Marite Irvine