The life cycle of a toy craze

 

"No," I said. 

 

"They're the new craze," said Dad.

 

"As long as they aren't loom bands," said I.

 

Most crazes pass my family by. Loom bands did not.

 

The eldest daughter got drawn into the loom band scene. Brightly-coloured elastic bands became a thousand bracelets for her efficient, focused hands. The day the warnings about possible toxic substances within the product ended the craze was the same day I purchased a massive sack of loom bands. I find them still around the house, in the back of drawers and under heavy furniture.

 

 

The four-year-old began requesting fidget spinners a week after my dad mentioned them, but still I had not seen one.

 

Then I heard about them on the radio. Someone texted in about how a flying fidget spinner had cracked their child's front teeth.  I had yet to see one.

 

The next day, the four-year-old was injured by a fidget spinner that flew into her head. "There was blood," said the child minder, a lot of blood, though it was in fact, a tiny cut.

 

I had still yet to see a fidget spinner.

 

On my way to work the next day, the news reader informed the country that 200,000 fidget spinners had been seized by customs. Demand outstripped supply, and dodgy fidget spinners were flooding the market. A child in Texas had to undergo emergency surgery after swallowing a small part from one sub-par toy.

 

 

The cycle of this craze is moving quickly, I thought. Perhaps I'd get through this entire trend without ever laying eyes on a fidget spinner.

 

But, alas, when I arrived at my parents' house that evening, I found that the four-year-old had persuaded her grandma to buy her one of these spinners. 

 

My dad looked on in approval. He had been keen, he said , to try it himself. Fads, it seems, are multi-generational. I hope we survive this one intact.