Therapy in the toy store: Part l

You don’t just get a toy, when you come to the toy shop. You get therapy, and like the gift wrap service, it’s free.

Family therapy is our main business. We know that daughters-in-law can make buying a present for a grandchild well nigh impossible. “I think he’d like this, but I’m not sure his mother would approve” you say, tentatively. We sympathise, and then we help you find an alternative which you’ll be just as happy to give.

We know that mothers-in-law can make life with a new baby difficult. We understand when you explain how the musical mobile she insisted on giving you isn’t nearly as nice as the one you wanted. We do exchanges without judgement.

We tactfully don’t watch as your small child has a tantrum, and refuses to leave the shop without the toy he’s holding. Or we might say “don't worry, we’ve all been there”. If we sense you need our help, we address your child “oh, it’s SO hard to leave the toy store, isn’t it? But you can come again another day. You have to leave the toys here, though. Everyone has to.”

We declare “It’s cute baby day in the toy store today!”, and make you feel that your infant is the most beautiful one who has ever crossed our threshold. We let your toddlers play with the train track, and the doll’s house, and the sandbox, bounce around on the hop ball, ride round on the bike, jump on the trampoline, and it doesn’t matter at all if they make a mess, or make a noise. “It’s a toy store!” we exclaim.

We offer a 10% discount to therapists, teachers, and staff from the local center for disabled children, and we never ask if they’re buying the toy for the classroom or their own home.

Some therapy pulls the heartstrings. I tried to help someone find some dot-to-dot books with pictures that weren’t too babyish for an 18-year-old with an educational age of 10 (“and he still thinks he’s going to college like all the other 18 year olds”). I spent some time recently with two older women who came in looking for activities to keep occupied their Alzheimer-suffering husbands. It really must be like having a small child to look after. No small pieces to put in their mouths, no magnets, nothing which demands too long an attention span.

I personally have developed two particular therapies. The first is the “no more mummy guilt” therapy. If a customer ever makes reference to being a bad mum (or dad for that matter), for whatever reason, I look them straight in the eye, and say “that doesn’t make you a bad mother”. It’s amazing what people worry about, thinking it makes them a bad parent. Buying party favours only the day before the party. Buying not enough presents for their child’s birthday. Buying too many presents for their child’s birthday. Not buying exactly what their child wants. Not knowing exactly what their child wants. It’s time we dropped all this parent guilt. I’m doing my bit in the toy shop.

The second is a seasonal therapy, to the grandparents who came to the shop early in December, wanting to buy presents to send to far away grandchildren. “I think she’d like this... Yes, I think she would... But I haven’t seen her for a long while, and they change so fast.” I reply “I’m sure she’ll love it. I’m sure she will”. I understand that you don’t want to make a quick decision. I understand that you need to spend an hour looking round, picking all the different items off the shelves, holding them, feeling them, choosing the right one to imbue with your love before letting us wrap it and ship it off. I understand if you say you’ll wrap it yourself. You want to take it home and have it in your hands a little longer. You want the gift tag to be in your own writing. You want to add ‘with so much love from…' and underline ‘so much’. I hear what it is you’re really saying, when you tell me you have to get the choice right, because they live so far away, they can’t come in to do an exchange. I like listening to you as you talk about your grandkids. I ask questions about them. I smile a lot when I’m talking to you. I want you to enjoy your morning, choosing Christmas presents for the grandkids so far away. I like helping you look around, and giving you ideas, but I know too that you need some time on your own, so I leave you in peace. I am, by proxy, the sales assistant who is scanning the bar codes on the purchases my mother is making, an ocean and half a continent away.