Hello, Lego Team! Thank you for your views

The PR company said:

Dear Iota,

Thank you for your response in regards to our invite to the LEGO Friends event, firstly please accept our sincere apologies, although we would have loved to have you there obviously travelling from the US would be a little extreme! We've updated our UK correspondence list and will ensure to pass on your details to the US team so they can keep you updated of any future events.

That aside, you raised some very interesting points in your blog post and here at LEGO we welcome all feedback so wanted to take this opportunity to respond to these and address any concerns you may have about the Friends range.

At LEGO we believe in providing all children a choice when it comes to the way they play and what they choose to play with. It is this belief which continually drives us to develop the LEGO play experience to ensure it continues to cater to all children, their passions and interests.

Although LEGO is well loved by children all over the world the fact remains that it does predominantly appeal more to boys than girls. In fact, in the US, only 9% of active LEGO households indicate that a girl is the primary user and in the UK it is 18%. Statistics tell us that the vast majority of girls feel that LEGO doesn't offer a play experience that caters to their needs and interests as they grow. In short, girls have for many years now asked for more from the LEGO range.

So after four years of extensive research, during which time we spoke to thousands of girls and parents across the world, we were proud to launch LEGO Friends to the market. The research helped us to shape the range that exists today and we have gone to great lengths to try to ensure it encompasses everything they asked for. One of the main things to come out of the research was that girls wanted a product that mirrored all the constuction elements of the LEGO whilst also combining the opportunity for realistic, character-based role-play and creativity.

Our research also told us what we already know, that all girls are different, they have different needs, interests, passions and ambitions. We hoped by creating a variety of settings and scenarios within Friends, which allow for a whole host of different play experiences, girls will find something that resonates with them - whether that's animals, science, design, inventions, cars, music, art, cooking, exploration or simply building their own mini treehouse – LEGO Friends offers something for them to engage with.

Whilst the construction experience remains exactly the same as any other LEGO product, we have added some new coloured bricks into the range including blues, purples and greens (interestingly pink has existed within the LEGO range for quite a few years now). We also added in smaller details including stickers and accessories to allow for further customisation of the sets, again something girls had expressed an interest in. LEGO's ultimate goal is to invite more girls to enjoy the LEGO play and build experience and we hope that the new LEGO Friends range does exactly that.

We're always happy to hear feedback so if you have any more questions or would like to hear more from us please do let us know.

Kind regards,
L

And I replied:

Dear L

Thank you very much for giving Lego the opportunity to address the points I made in my recent blog post. There are a number of interesting comments on the post, which you might like to feed back to Lego.

It's a complicated issue, isn't it? Lego researches the market, and gives girls what they want. I really can't quibble with that. But of course to a large extent, children want what they're told they want by a whole range of people, among whom are the toy companies. Girls have been - is 'brainwashed' too strong a word? - to be somewhat stereotypical in their desires.

As mothers, we want them to know that the world is a big place and we want to extend rather than narrow their imaginations. I'm pleased that the Friends range does contain "a variety of settings and scenarios". At least the Friends predominant colour is purple, not pink, and it's not too sparkly (from what I've seen). I suppose that's something. There's an Invention Workshop in there alongside the Cafe, the Stage, and the Splash Pool - I hope that proves to be the most popular, but I won't hold my breath on that one.

In my opinion, Lego is fielding some of the backlash that is (hurrah) starting to swell against the pink girlie-girl vacuous culture that seems to dominate the toy and media worlds. It's probably because Lego is such a trusted brand. None of us would get upset about Mattel bringing out a new range of girl toys in which five BFFs can explore beauty shops and fashion design studios, because that's what Mattel does. I guess it just feels worse from Lego. Sorry, Lego. Perhaps we have you on too much of a (moulded plastic) pedestal.

Thank you for your reply, which I am posting on my blog.

Best wishes

Iota

Hello, Lego Team! I'd love to hear your views

Aaargh... I have a thousand things to do other than blogging this morning. I want to leave that "Alcohol" post as my top post because I've had lots of comments and they're all really interesting. But... I just have to post this. I'm all riled up.

[PLEASE, if you read the "Alcohol" post and have something to say, leave a comment, even if it looks like it's Iota's yesterday's news. I am really interested.]

I've been approached by a PR company (which makes me sound like one of those proper bloggers who get approached all the time, so I thought I'd just draw attention to that fact). I will share with you her email and my reply, and let them speak for themselves. And once you've read them, you can read another post here which puts it well.

Hi

I hope you are well

We are keen to get in touch to invite you to a special event on the morning of Friday 10th February to showcase the new LEGO Friends range.

Please join us between 9am-12pm for morning tea at The Spatisserie at The Dorchester Hotel where you will have access to our fantastic new range and the opportunity to meet the LEGO team and have all your questions answered.

Please see our invite below for further information and please let us know if you would like to attend asap as space is limited .

It would be great to see you there.

Best Wishes

A

And I replied:

Hi A

I would love to join you, but unfortunately I live in the US, so won't be able to.

Did you know that Lego has received 45,000 letters from parents, regretting that they are targeting girls in a way that reinforces stereotypes? The "Friends" range gives the idea that girlhood is about shopping and beauty. I lament the days when Lego promoted their blocks as if girls and boys could both enjoy them as equals. If you had a daughter, which would you rather she did? Played with a Lego set which gave her the message that she could build and explore just like a boy? Or played with a Lego set which gave her the message that if she wants to build and explore, it had better be in pink or purple, and it had better be about spas and pedicures? Imaginative play encourages children to think for themselves, and be creative, and dream. It seems to me a shame that girls are sent the message that their dreams take place within such limited parameters.

I would absolutely love to meet the Lego team and talk to them. Since I can't be there in person, if you saw fit to give one of them a copy of my email, I would be really interested to hear their reply. I understand that they are in the business of selling toys, not of broadening the horizons of girls, but I would like to give them the opportunity at least to pause and think about this issue.

I have been planning to do a blog post about the Lego "Friends" range. It seems courteous to give the Lego team an opportunity to give me their views before I do so.

I am attaching three photos of Lego sets in days gone by. Have a look at them alongside the packaging of Lego "Friends", and tell me which you think sends a more positive message to girls. I know I'm not alone in my opinions. 45,000 other parents feel the same (and if that figure is wrong, then I'm glad to give the Lego team an opportunity to correct me).

Best wishes

Iota

[Postscript: I was wrong about Lego having received 45,000 letters - I thought that sounded unlikely. That figure comes from a petition to Lego, which you can find here. I was the 51,968th signatory, so the number is going up. Don't you love it when the internet gives you a voice?]

Learn to Dress Kitty

This is it. This is my least favourite toy in the shop.

It's the Learn to Dress Kitty. The idea behind it is that you use this friendly fun cat to teach your child all about clothes fastenings. See, there's a zip (zipper), a button, and shoes with laces on the front, and various hooks and eyes and other things on the back. It retails at $34.99. We also sell a wooden shoe with laces, for $14.99. Same idea, but just a large wooden shoe. No cute cat. It's my second least favourite toy in the shop.

The reason I hate these items so much is this. You just don't need them. Trust me. I've had three children. You truly don't. Here's why (and it's not rocket science). You can use your child's own clothes to teach them how to do fastenings!

"Wait a minute!" I hear you interject. "It's easier for the child to learn on an object in front of them, than on clothes on their own body." I've thought of that, and I have a selection of answers.

First, it actually probably isn't.

Second, what is the point of teaching your child a skill that's easier than the one they need in daily life? What good is it if your child can operate that taut, easy-to-pull 2-inch zip, if at preschool they need to be able to do up their own wrinkly, tricky-to-pull 10-inch zip? Eh? Tell me that. How impressed will the beleaguered preschool teacher be if they say "I can do the Kitty one at home"? Not very.

Third, even if it were helpful to have a teaching aid that the child isn't wearing, even if it were helpful to have easier fastenings to start learning on, even then, this is still a total waste of $34.99, because guess what? You can use an ordinary shoe to practise laces. You can use your handbag or a pair of jeans to practise zips. You can use a cardigan to practise buttons.

There are so very many things that are worth spending $34.99 on. Plus tax. If you still aren't persuaded, if you're still tempted to purchase this toy, or teaching aid, or whatever it is, then STOP right now. Buy a puzzle, or a doll, or a teddy, or Monopoly, or write a cheque to Oxfam. You're still liking the kitty? I hate this toy so much that I am almost at the point of offering to pay my own travel expenses to your house, where I will take you by the hand, and lead you to your own wardrobe, and help you find items which you have right there which will do the same job. It could be a life-changing releasing moment for you.

Quite apart from not buying into the whole idea behind this toy (had you noticed?), I have some issues with the details of the design. The staring eyes... The fact that the zip is so short (what's the point of a 2-inch zip?)... But most of all (and this REALLY annoys me), that orange button under the cute cat chin? See it? It's not even a real functioning button. It's a decorative button. What IS the point of having a button on a learn-to-dress toy, that doesn't have a button hole to go through? Aaaargh...

Before I self-combust in the heat generated by my own ire, I just have to show you this.

Yes, it's the equivalent toy for boys. The Learn to Dress Monkey. I hate it with the same passion, though at least the two buttons on the front are functioning (one with a button hole, the other with an odd loop arrangement that you never ever see on clothes). And there are poppers (snaps, in the US) too. But I have to tell you this about the monkey. In this picture, he's holding the banana in one hand, and his tail in the other. But in the toy shop, he hangs on a rack with both hands fully extended down in front holding the banana - they both attach to it, and (visualise it, go on) it just looks very rude.

Here's my final thought. (If you're not persuaded by now, I'm thinking you're probably beyond my reach on this item.) If your child struggles to do up laces, don't buy the kitty, the monkey or the wooden shoe. Join the rest of Planet Motherhood, and buy shoes with velcro! That $34.99 could buy a very nice pair.

Christmas picks

This is the time of year when many mummy bloggers do reviews of toys, and give their hot picks for Christmas presents. Well, I’m going to do the opposite. I’m going to give you my cold picks.

The vast, vast majority of the toys in the toy shop where I work are brilliant. They’re high quality, well made, educational, imaginative; some are old favourites, some are different and unusual. I just want to point that out. I need to cover my back in case, just in case, the toy shop owner somehow is reading this and has worked out who Iota is, because I really don’t want to be dooced. And if you are reading this, oh please, please don’t dooce me. I love my job. Please, please don’t give me the sack. I love your shop. I love working in it. I’ll work for you for free.

With that disclaimer, of the thousands (actually, I think it might be tens of thousands) of toys in the shop, there are a very few that I really dislike. So here are my cold picks for 2010.

Hexbugs - I’m sorry, but I just don’t get Hexbugs. We’ve got a couple at home, from 10-yo’s birthday last year. They do two things. They either stay absolutely stationary, or they scuttle in a straight line. Neither is remotely interesting after the first 5 seconds. They are expensive, and as far as I can see, you might as well put your dollar bill or your credit card on the floor. That will stay absolutely stationary, which is 50% of what the Hexbug does. Then you can pick it up again and put it back in your wallet, and have it to spend on a different item. In my opinion, that will have been a much better use of your money. You will miss out on the scuttling, but trust me, you’re not missing out on much. I’m guessing that people buy Hexbugs because some in the series have the title “nano”, and “nano” sounds intelligent and impressive. Even the ones that aren’t “nano” somehow bask in the reflected glory of the ones that are. Also, some boys reach an age where they are almost impossible to buy presents for, and Hexbugs are the straws at which desperate friends and relations clutch.

Ugly Dolls - I don’t see the point of Ugly Dolls. They are ugly. They are overpriced. They do nothing. They don’t even scuttle. If your children ask for an Ugly Doll, it means they’ve got too many toys.

Chew by Numbers kits – I had my first introduction to this concept when 6-yo was in Kindergarten. I used to help out in the classroom each week, and once, I couldn’t believe it when the activity to help the kids learn the letter ‘G’, was to chew gum to make it soft, take it out of their mouths, and then stretch it into a string and stick it onto a sheet of paper in the shape of a ‘G’. Very suitable letter, given the huge number of Germs that were being happily spread around the place. Well, the idea must be flavour of the month with educators and toy designers, because someone has produced these kits containing different coloured gum, which you chew and then stick on to pictures. It’s painting by numbers, but with gum. Yet no-one has had the wit to call it “painting by gum-bers” which would at least add a bit of wry humour to the activity. Answer me one question. Why would anyone buy this kit, when there is a huge range of really good, creative, sensible art kits on the market, which don’t involve chewing and spitting out? Answer me another question. What are you meant to do with these chewing gum pictures when you’ve finished them? Hang them on your wall? Used gum, in colourful blobby shapes, masquerading as art, on your wall? Or put them in a drawer? Yuk. I rest my case.

Anything that says “Everyone loves” on the box - It’s like reading a recipe that says “Children will love this tasty and nutritious snack”. You just know it’s going to have spinach and chick peas in it, and that your children are not going to love it; they’re not even going to try it unless you deploy a big bribe. We sell a craft kit for making wind chimes that says “Everyone loves wind chimes” on the box. Well, I have news for the manufacturer. I don’t love wind chimes. I don’t mind them. I don’t object to them. But I don’t love them. So that’s a fib, right there, before the description goes any further. I am one person. So if I don’t love wind chimes, you can’t say “Everyone loves wind chimes”. Who wants to buy a toy from a company that fibs? We’re all ethical consumers these days.

Snap circuits - I have no idea what these are, in all honesty. I just know that the description on the box makes no sense: “Have fun learning all about electronics”. That is a sentence made up of two entirely discrete concepts – “have fun”, and “learning all about electronics”. That sentence is like vinaigrette. You can shake it vigorously, and it’ll be tasty for a short while, but then the oil and the vinegar will separate out again. You just can’t force two things to combine that don’t belong together. I think the word I’m looking for is immiscible. (Oh, how very, very gratifying. That is indeed the word, but it’s not in Microsoft’s thesaurus. I’m more literate than Microsoft! Ha!) I do have to tell you, though, that we sell a lot of snap circuits, and that people love them and come back for more. There are things called "snap circuit extension kits". I really have no idea at all what those four words mean (though I will happily sell you a box).

So those are my cold picks. I do have one more. It’s not so much a cold pick, as a frozen pick. It’s an item I hate with exquisite loathing. I’ll tell you about it in the next post.

Words, words, words

Words, words, words. There are so many of them that just don't translate quite exactly from British English to American English. Here are four that have troubled me this week.

1) I still haven't discovered what 'aseptic drinks' are. There's an aisle in Dillons supermarket that has 'aseptic drinks' as its title (I've mentioned this before, but I never found out the answer). I just hope they're the ones I'm buying, because I sure as heck don't want to discover that I've been putting septic apple juice in my kids' packed lunches.

2) Packed lunches. Now, I know you call them 'sack lunches' over here, but I think maybe sometimes you call them 'packed lunches' too. It's just that every time I think I hear someone say 'packed lunch', I can't quite tell whether it was, in fact, 'sack lunch', and it doesn't feel quite right to say "hang on a minute... did you say 'packed lunch' there, a la British English, or was it just the usual American 'sack lunch' after all?" because, frankly, does it matter anyway?

3) My daughter's homework. The instructions asked us to listen to her read the 'decodable reader'. Hello? Hello, teachers? I think you've forgotten that we're parents here, not people deeply entrenched in the minutiae of education theory. What you're asking us to do, is to listen to her read the sentences about Pam and her hat, which she pats, and Sam and his cap, and the fat cat. I can see why you don't want to call it a book. Thin on plot, thin on characterisation. But 'decodable reader'? Puh-lease. Send her home with a reader that is NOT decodable one time, and then I'll be interested in whether your readers are codable or decodable.

4) Meccano. I thought you didn't have Meccano over here. But you do. You just call it something different. You call it 'Erector'. I discovered this in the toy shop, when the owner was showing me round on my first day. She pointed it out to me, and said

"Erector is popular. You'll find that dads often buy Erector, because..."

and I think she continued

"... they remember playing with it when they were kids",

but by that point in the sentence I had my mental hands over my mental ears and I was mentally singing la la la very loudly to myself.

Erector. Please take me home to a land where they call it Meccano.

300 not out

“I think you’d be a great addition to the team”, the Toy Shop Owner said.

Yay! I’m starting a week tomorrow, doing probably a couple of days a week, 10.00am to 3.00pm, in September, and building up as necessary through October, November, and the busiest period of the year in December. I love the fact that this has all fallen into place so easily. One phone call. That’s all it took. Sometimes you get a lucky break, and this has been one of mine. All I need now is a social security number. And there I was, thinking that getting the green card marked the end of the bureaucracy…

The children are so excited. I’ve just picked up 9-yo from school, and he’s already told his whole class, two teachers and the principal. Not bad going in one afternoon.

This is my 300th blog post. I still haven’t decided on a new name (I thought I might launch the new name at the 300th post, but it’s snuck up on me.) I’m thinking I might just call the blog “Iota”. Is that a bit pretentious? I really wish we lived in Iowa, because then I could be “Iota in Iowa”. Then we should move to an island off the coast of Scotland, and I could be “Iota: from Iowa to Iona”.

I like my profile picture, of the notice nailed to the tree trunk, and I was wondering about tying the name in with that. How about “Iota stakes her claim”? Kind of assertive. Or perhaps a reference to the American writing style: “Iota: discursive in cursive”. I’ve wondered about:

Iota, actually
Iota, Stateside
Iota’s Quota, which would abbreviate rather pleasingly to IQ.
Iota, Wife in the West
Iota on the Great Plains… She’s Great, but she isn’t Plain. Trouble with that, is that one slip of the keyboard, and you’re into “She’s Great, but she isn’t Palin”, and then I’d attract all kinds of unwanted political traffic.

Of course there’s still “Among the Bison with my Dyson”. I can’t rule that one out yet. It has so much potential for a fantastic visual image on the header.

What about tornadoes? They’re the other well-known feature of life in the Midwest. How about “Torn ado about nothing”? No? Thought not.

Sorry to be wittering on so much about names, but they are important things. Colgate, for example, is (I’m told) ‘hang yourself’ in Spanish. Persil is ‘parsley’ in French (and I believe it is marketed in France under that name). And who, who on earth, thought that Pepto-Bismol was a good name for a medicine for indigestion? It just sounds like 'Pept-Abysmal'. Mind you, I do wonder if the Pepto-Bismol marketing department operates on some kind of reverse psychology, because no-one in their right mind would consider buying medicine for indigestion that lurid pink colour. No-one except Barbie, and clearly she never gets indigestion because she never eats anything except Slim-fast.

Barbie… toys… toyshop… job… All witterings come full circle if you let them run their course.

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Job

Well, congrats to those of you (If I could escape, Aly and Heather) who said toy shop, because you are right! (Florida, Wiltshire, Lapland - you've got to love the diversity of blogging.) And an honorable mention to Speccy, who did mention toys - but had me in a travelling van, instead of a fixed retail outlet. It's one of those toy shops where you can't buy a Barbie or Nintendo game, but you can buy wooden fruit. I love it, because it's the antithesis to Toys R Crap, which I hate, and which is pretty much the only alternative here.

The shop is very English in feel, actually, because it's small - though big enough to have room for kids to try out a selection of ride-on and bounce-on toys. Whenever I've been in there with my children, they get on one of those wobbly ride-on things that you operate by wiggling the steering wheel quickly from left to right, and I find it hard to persuade them to leave. I've always been impressed by a shop that lets children wiggle and bounce around, especially as the aisles are pretty small (it really is very untypical), so it would be easy for an errant wiggle to knock down a whole display of boxes of Lego.

Incidentally, did you know that in America, they pronounce Lego 'Laygo', as if it were French and had an acute accent over the e. And they always refer to it in the plural. English children play with Leggo. American kids play with Laygos. Just a little cultural detail of the kind which I know you have come to expect from this blog.

Any old way, I'm not going to say too much about the job at this point, because I'm going in on Wednesday morning, and I don't want to have to post on Wednesday afternoon, about how it didn't all work out, having got you all very excited on my behalf. So act casual for now, ok?

I imagine the interview will go something like this:

Toy shop owner: What experience do you have in the retail sector?

Me: None.

TSO: Can you operate a cash till, and credit card swiping equipment?

Me: No.

TSO: How would you help someone who was looking for an educational toy?

Me: I'd tell them not to bother. School will educate your child. Focus your home life on having fun. How about this camera that squirts water, or this whoopee cushion?

TSO: Will you enjoy engaging with children, leaving their parents free to browse undisturbed?

Me: Up to a point. Here's a sign I've seen in another shop, which I'll display when I'm on duty: "Unattended children will be given an espresso, and a puppy to take home".

TSO: Will you promise to talk in your lovely English accent?

Me: Yes. I know no other way.

TSO: You've scored 1 out of 5, and on that basis, I'm happy to offer you the job.

You think I exaggerate the whole accent thing. I should tell you that I found out about the job, because the TSO was trying to recruit a friend of mine - an English friend of mine - who turned it down. (Actually, she's my only English friend here, and the reason she turned the opportunity down is because she is moving back to England. Today. Sob.)

I should have titled this post Job and sob, shouldn't I? That would have been neat.

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Sidewalk chalks

Sidewahk chahks. One of the staples of American childhood, and I don’t think we have them at all in Britain. Perhaps we do, and I just never came across them. I wish I had done – they’re a very useful arrow in the mother’s quiver of outdoor toys for small children. Happy hours are spent doodling on the steps, the path or the patio, and then when the rain comes, it’s all washed clean and you can start all over again.

If you have a front drive, or a front porch, a front path, or even just a front doorstep, you can display your work for passers-by. Most will miss it, of course, cocooned in their cars from such neighbourhood detail, but the occasional walker, in trainers, sports gear and headphones, will glance over, and I like to think we make the mailman’s job more interesting.

Earlier in the year, 7-yo wrote a lovely message of welcome for visitors. “The Manhattans live here - this is our house - hello” it read, in a spidering melee of capitals and lower case, some letters twice the size of others, and no one the same colour as its neighbour. If you’d passed by that day, before the rain came, I’m sure you’d have enjoyed the message, and perhaps you would have wondered about the blur of colour underneath. That was where the open-hearted child had written “Our garage code is ####”, to be extra welcoming, and the more security-conscious mother had scuffed it out, sad to have to explain a little more of the world to him as she did so.

Three weeks ago, on the day of our return from Britain, some friends came by and covered our drive and porch in “Welcome Home” messages: a huge red heart and big flowers, and personalized exclamations. “Hi, 11-yo, can’t wait to see you!” “We missed you, 7-yo!” It was wonderful, and made me promise myself that I would do the same for others in the future. Perhaps I could bring the custom back to repressed Britain, where such a gesture would be embarrassing. Heavens, other people would see it! And children’s names, their own NAMES, outside for all to read! Embarrassing, but enjoyed too, I think. I will take the risk one day (but maybe not use the children’s names).

Now, if you walk by our house, you will see a four-letter word carefully inscribed three times in different colours. Hurry though, before the rain comes. “OLAY OLAY OLAY”. Intrigued, I asked 4-yo why she had fetched the bottle of body moisturiser from the bathroom, and taken it outside to copy. “I wanted everyone to know that I can do that letter now”, she replied, pointing to the Y, somewhat larger than the other letters and a little more wobbly, but absolutely recognisable. She learns so fast these days, in that engaging 4 year old way, and often teaching herself. I wouldn’t even have known that she can do all the other three letters. I wonder why she picked the letter Y as the next one to master. I wonder why that word on that bottle caught her interest. I wonder if she feels, as I do still, that letters have their own personalities. I wonder which ones she will like best. I have always liked Y.

Anyway, I felt her achievement and her desire for recognition deserved a wider audience than our - no doubt rather puzzled - mailman.