Define Child-Proof

As you may have guessed from the title of this blog, I'm starting to question what "child-proof" really means. In many cases, it is supposed to mean, "Hey, your child absolutely will not figure this out under any and all circumstances." Sometimes, it means, "If your child breaks this, we will give you your money back." Having three small children, I am starting to find both of those definitions to be completely invalid.

Perhaps it should really read, "Hey, your child absolutey will not figure this out under any and all circumstances for a fragment of their childhood, and then you as a parent will be screwed." Those fancy doorknob covers are no longer a match for my two four year-old boys. Now, I know that most kids would've probably figured them out by now, but I was really enjoying the fact that they had respect for that hard plastic casing that surrounds every doorknob in our house. Now, nothing is sacred, and it pisses me off. Child-proof, my ass.

Then, there's Quincy and her new-found love of breaking plastic tableware. Baby companies everywhere design and market oodles of cute little plastic plates, cups, bowls, and flatware, especially to suit a toddler's (and parents') needs. You've seen them in the store, covered in jungle animals, or the latest-greatest cartoon character, and you think, "Well, it's marketed towards parents of toddlers, so it must be just fine for my toddler to use it." I'm here to tell you that's crap. Melamine is no match for my nineteen month-old daughter. In the last month alone, she has broken three bowls and an insulated sippy cup. Two of the bowls were broken in a 24-hour period. Are you kidding me with this? I would hope that if a plastic dining set was hanging on the wall in the baby aisle that it would be fit to withstand their somewhat violent tendencies at mealtime. I was apparently deceived.

Why, I ask you, do kids take pleasure in destroying their own toys? It seems sort of sick, don't you think? I mean, why demolish something you take so much pleasure in playing with? It makes absolutely no sense to me. While I will say that there are indestructible toy brands out there (thank you, Tonka-- thank you), most of the toys geared towards four year-old boys don't stand a chance against exactly that-- four year-old boys. C'mon, people-- these guys are going to step on, throw, kick, tug, and sling these toys up against a wall faster than I can tell them, "No!" Case in point: The boys' new camping lanterns. I got them the cutest little camping lanterns to play with inside their tee-pee, and after having them in their possession less than one hour, they had somehow managed to rip the plastic lantern casing clean off of the pegs that attached it to the base. What? They seemed sturdy enough to me, and what would make me think that they would try to detach the base of the lantern? Thank goodness it only cost me $4.00, but I would've expected more from a product that was designed for the outdoors.

This brings me to my biggest pet-peeve, which are cardboard puzzle boxes. Children's puzzle manufacturers are cheap bastards-- that's what I've decided. Common sense would tell you that if you were making a puzzle designed for a toddler, that you would put the pieces inside a container that has more substance than a flimsy cereal box. Hell, my kids try to shred cereal boxes when we're still at the grocery store, so what makes the puzzle people think that their boxes are indestructible enough for household playtime? Every single cardboard puzzle box in our house has had its sides and corners retaped so many times that they are starting to look more like wads of packing tape than actual boxes. Use your brains, people! Thankfully, I have been lucky enough to come across a couple of floor puzzles that (would you believe it) were contained inside heavy vinyl bags that snapped shut. Now we're talking!

So, that's me-- on my soapbox as usual. I know I should probably be focused on more serious issues, like the Presidential campaign, or global warming, but instead, yes, I'm ranting about my dissatisfaction with flimsy children's items. Call me crazy-- everyone else does!