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Plastics
So yes I'm still reading the Mitford sisters' correspondence. I'm not usually so slow but time has been short. Anyway, it was curious to find in a letter written in 1984 by Diana (b. 1910) on the subject that is so dear to so many: young children's hideous accessories. (She is writing about the visit of a grandchild).
"I loved having the baby, he is so incredibly sweet now. The fly in the ointment is his keeper... The dreaded plastic toys are simply everywhere-- drawing room, both sitting-rooms, porch, garden, even orchard. His & her shoes here & there. Pram of course (hideous). Cushions awry. The whole place a slum. One daren't look in her room... awash with clothes & unmade bed. Bathroom with plastic toys to the ceiling. It's just bad luck, people of her generation are born untidy. His books are so terrible with pictures of squinting moronic children supposed (probably) to be amusing." (from The Mitfords: Letters Between Six Sisters, page 698)
I keep meeting people who are always complaining about the toys, even the ones that don't make horrible noises or have irritating branding elements all over them.
(Oh and now I have to complain about branding for a moment. Felix and I had a really nice lunch with his grandmother this week that turned into a splitting headache for me when an enormous tantrum erupted because he refused to wear a Spiderman diaper-- purchased once in desperation-- and only wanted to wear one with Dora figures on it and the kicker is that he is utterly unfamiliar with Spiderman or Dora or just about any cartoon characters. I don't think I would have minded the screaming or the kicking or the bruises the next morning if he were pounding me because his outrage had actually been informed by something like a familiarity with the cartoons in question.)
But I don't mind toys, really (except for the racket and the branded stuff that sparks fights for no reason). I love the idea of a pile of potential amusement. I wish I lived surrounded by so much inspiration and charm.
Reading this letter, though, I wonder if I would have felt differently if I read this letter three years ago. After all, Diana, who wrote this note at 74 (an age when one really might reasonably find the clutter insipid), was in prison during the early childhoods of most of her children. She might not have known how entertaining and reliving it is to have a kid entertain himself for a while.
posted by Elise at 7:13 PM
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emma said...
i have reading it,good article.
1/16/2008 3:12 PM
said...
nicepost
2/12/2008 6:51 AM
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emma said...