Learning Curve asked Gearheadmom to help promote its new Mrs. Goodbee Interactive Dollhouse by sending us one to donate and one to keep and review. Sy did a fantastic job of demonstrating the spirit behind this toy by sharing hers with a family in need. We are demonstrating no such philanthropy in our household by plopping ours in the middle of the living room as a pre-holiday gift and playing with it daily.
We’ve had Mrs. Goodbee and her interactive faux-English accent in our house for a week. Verdict: my little almost-three-year-old, C, loves her Caring Corners House. The mission behind the dollhouse is “learning social responsibilities that will prepare [your child) for the real world.” The toy appeared to be working before I even got it out of the box: Little C was clapping and tenderly telling her mama “Thank you!” at every piece unpackaged. Yes! A little gratitude!
Here’s a re-post about one of our best purchases to date. Two years later and this is still a toy we play with constantly. It doesn’t cause as many fights as it used to, but it is has been a favorite all the same. Sy drags it up and down the stairs for various games throughout the week.
We’ve had the Little Tikes Shopping Cart for about a year now and it still causes massive fights when there is more than one two year old in the room. I see this as a successful purchase. The little red cart has room for a lovie in the seat basket and lots of groceries in the main compartment. Sy and her pals love to pretend to go shopping, or just roam the house with the cart and stock pile whatever they can find. After play group is here, I often find the cart shoved in the corner of my dining room overflowing with myriad random toys, placemats and other unimportant items like my car keys.
The cart has been known to cause massive strife during playtime. I often think I should have an army of them waiting on the deck for play group to avoid the chaos and chorus of “MY TURN” that erupts as soon as someone under three feet tall grabs hold of the thing. But then I roll my eyes, roll up my mothering sleeves and explain for the 412th time that sharing is, in fact, a good thing.
This cart is by no means a showcase of modern toy design, rather it’s a cheerful, bulky mass of colorful plastic. But its sturdy constitution serves its purpose. It allows Sy to shop, roll with her lovies or take it for a spin around the block without toppling over. It also cleans up really well so when she and her pals are pitching it all of two feet off the back deck into the dirt, it is no worse for wear. We’ve clocked miles worth of afternoon walks with this bad boy and the only thing to show for it are some slightly scratched up wheels. I hose it down from time to time and that’s about as far as my maintenance plan goes.
For those blissfully uninitiated into the World of Polly Pockets, “My Pollies,” as my daughter affectionately calls them, are miniature Barbie-like dolls—less busty, perhaps—with stretchy plastic clothes and tiny little shoes and accessories.
Our daughter first fell in love with these infuriating little vixens when she was about two years old, when her interactions with the dolls consisted of bringing them to us for outfit donning or removal. If you’re the parent of a little girl between the ages of two and eight, then you’ve likely uttered nasty expletives while wrestling a centimeter-sized rubber skirt onto a rubber two-inch tart. Or you won’t allow Polly Pockets in your home.
Dear Learning Puppy,
I have some bad news for you. I think it’s time for you to move out. No, you are not going to be shoved in the back of the toy closet (again) only to be resurrected by Sy in a couple of months. I can’t take the break-up/make-up routine anymore! It’s more serious than that. I think it’s time you move to the consignment shop at the foot of the hill, because Puppy, it’s over. Do you hear me? O-V-E-R. I no longer want to sing and play games with you. I don’t want to hug you. I’m tired of hearing about your YELLOW FOOT! I just want you and your blinking dog bone collar out of my home forever.
Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had some good times together. I’ll never forget the time I gently tapped your nose and you said to me, “RED NOSE!” I felt like you really meant what you said. But as the years have passed, your once-charming ways have become one dimensional, almost superficial. I mean, how deep can you be when you are only surface washable?
We only gave Sy a couple of presents for her birthday since she has such a huge and generous family. The first thing we got her was the Plan Toys Gas Station because the girl has always been obsessed with gas stations. Why? We don’t know, and we don’t ask. Some three year old mysteries are better left unsolved.
I thought this toy was going to be a huge hit since it’s two of her favorite things; a gas station and the world of her very vivid imagination. All those hungry cars getting filled up at her very own gas station, what’s not to love?
A lot, according to my girl and me.
Thanks to my sister, Gwen, for writing this review. A brave woman, wading into the world of Webkinz.
I admit it. Webkinz World intimidates me. When my sister asked me to review this website my daughter loves I knew it was time to confront my fears. I had spent long enough worrying about exactly what my child was doing in this cyber-world. It seemed OK, and I had heard an NPR story about the relatively rigorous controls on child-centered websites, but I didn’t really know. So, many hours and a surprising amount of research later, I offer this review so that we can all (pretend) to be better parents.
For those who may not be familiar with Webkinz, a warning: they sneak into your house. For us, it was under the guise of a birthday present. T opened a small package containing a soft stuffed turtle, made by Ganz. She named it Mimi. I didn’t like the idea of having another stuffed animal on the bed, but the turtle was small and – I thought – harmless. Never jump to conclusions.
On Mimi’s front paw was a plastic-wrapped tag that held her ‘code’. T, like most six year olds, was well ahead of me. “Oh boy! It’s a REAL Webkinz! Mom – can I use your computer?!?” And with that, we were off.
So this gift is a little over the top, I’ll admit. One of Sy’s pals has one of these Galt “Nursery Folding Trampolines” and it’s just too much fun. I figure Sy will be going stir-crazy from being so housebound the first few weeks of new babydom, why not get her something that helps her get her ya-yas out? We haven’t purchased it, but wouldn’t it be cool to come home to your own personal gymnasium after visiting the interloper at the hospital? Nothing shouts I’M A BIG GIRL like careening off of a trampoline at an alarming clip.
Sy and her pals tend to argue over turns a lot. Hours of entertainment. OK, well, maybe 15 minute stretches of entertainment AND exercise. Nobody’s broken anything yet, so they keep on jumping. Let’s be clear, the folks at Galt say one kid max (77 pound maximum), but I’ll be the first to admit Sy does her share of tandem jumping with a pal. When have I ever read the instructions before I let my kid play with a toy?
Sy’s aunt got her this wicked fun teeter totter for her birthday. Part of their Naturally Playful® line, the little ride is made by Step2, the geniuses behind my favorite sand and water table.
It has two wide, contoured seats with easy-grip handle bars plus it can accommodate an additional rider in middle. The maximum weight 120 lbs, so (3) three year olds can easily take it on. We put it out at Sy’s birthday party and it was a huge hit. She and her pals have a three-person see saw at school, so they understand how to ride as a trio. But the great thing about this one is that it’s light enough so the kiddo can sit by themselves in the middle, and they can rock back and forth like a rocking horse.
My friend Nicole reminded me how seriously cute absolutely everything is over at Blabla, a mom-run company started in 2001. Blabla works with Peruvian artisans who hand-knit each and every piece of their collections.
I am completely enamored by this whale mobile. They also have some ab-fab sweaters that size up to 4T. Love that little squirrel; I can see a boy or a girl wearing that.
The line is also available online over at Oompa, one of my favorite online toy resources.
I’ll start by saying I was not going to be the kind of mother who let her daughter watch Go, Diego Go or Dora the (Totally Irritating) Explorer. I was only going to buy wooden toys and never let her within 100 yards of the golden arches. And then I actually became a mother and lookee here! My daughter is still alive after her first (and not last) hash brown and has clearly licked her share of plastic toys. I’m still disappointed in myself that I ever let her lay eyes on Diego and Dora. Not because I think their message is horrible (Lots o’ girl power! Learn about endangered animals!), but mainly because whenever she watches one of those shows, she wants me to sit right on down next to her and enjoy it, too. It’s 23 minutes I’d, uh, rather spend otherwise, but let’s just say I’ve written my share of reviews for this site while sitting next to her as we chant “...This rough and tough adventurer is workin’ all the time! Diego…Diego…Diego…Go, Diego, Go!” Excuse me while I go hit my head against the wall.
That said, my kid has actually learned a lot about the rain forest from Diego. The other day she looked at Roger and said, “Daddy, iguanas keep their food in their tails.” And she was right on. I am pretty sure neither Roger nor I knew that iguanas stored fat in their tails for hibernation. Diego:1; Mom and Dad:0.
So when Micky got Kara the Loud As Hell Rescue Center by Fisher-Price, Sy just about went nuts. She begged me to go to her house pretty much around the clock so she could play with it. I have to admit, while it’s one big ass piece of plastic, it’s a cool toy. Don’t tell anyone I said that, OK?
Andie’s son Max got this Click Clack Tree by Plan Toys for his third birthday. Andie and I were playing with it and we honestly could not figure out where the “hours of fun” would come from. I’ve never seen a Plan Toys toy I didn’t like, but there is a first time for everything, right?
This toy is beautiful: a little wooden “tree” with tracks for the bug balls to roll back and forth along. And that’s all it does. The bugs roll back and forth and then you pick em up and do it again. It says three and up, most likely for the size of the bug and possibly dexterity of putting the bugs back, but most three year olds I know would do this about three times and then be off and running onto the next activity. Andie and I played with the bugs while the kids were on the floor doing something else. Sy, queen of the long attention span, sidled up and watched for a minute before skittering off to the next thing.
Sy is not a girlie-girl at all. She likes to pick her own outfits in the morning and they generally include stripes and spots and mismatched socks, sometimes with a dress on top for color. She usually looks like the pile from the bottom of the dryer, but I think it’s fabulous. The only princess she knows of is the Paper Bag one. But now, at the cusp of three, she is really getting into dress up. She clonks around in her plastic high heels and refuses to take off her “butterfly wings” that we have. They are a sad pair, those wings. Hand-me-downs like most of her girlie dress up gear, they are torn and limp, threatening to unravel at any minute.
I feel I owe it to her to get her a pair of really fluffy, girlie, pink wings for her birthday. But where to start? I grew up wearing black and listened to New Wave. I don’t know how to be a fairy princess or even where to look. So I called on Dawn from Pink With Sparkles to review her favorite fairy accoutrements for us. Her picks after the jump.
Sy’s pal Max just turned three and she was thrilled to go over and take all his new toys for a test drive. First up: the Doctor’s Suitcase from Haba. I’ve wanted to see this toy in person since I mentioned it back in December.
Sy was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She loves all doctor’s kits, which I find amusing since she loathes going to the doctor with all her heart. We have this little fabric one I found at Cost Plus World Market that she likes just fine, but I could tell she felt like this one was the real deal. I sat down with Sy and Max and was immediately given shot after shot, wrapped in a yellow bandage and covered in band aids.
Like any self-respecting 2 1/2 year old, Sy is obsessed with the mail. Getting the mail, harassing our very kind postal carrier, sending the mail, checking out the mailboxes at the post office, ad nauseum. Ripping the important tax documents from my unsuspecting hands, running away gleefully and “mailing” them somewhere in the house has been her favorite past time this week. Sy’s her name, mail’s her game. She had been using the Learning Tower as her mail box, but it irked her a bit that her invented mail box had no real cover on it. Of course I should have just let her make stuff up, especially after reading that NPR article about the downfall of our kids due to all those thematic toys out there. But no, I’d been checking out the Melissa and Doug Mailbox and opted for that. Sorry about your brain, kid. Mama just got you a new toy.
So it was a big week in our house, at least before we got the plague. Sy got to borrow Kara’s illustrious and much coveted ball popper. She literally squealed with excitement when Micky carried that thing through the door. Micky placed it on the coffee table while Kara and Sy started dancing, clapping and shrieking a chorus of YAYAYAYAYAYAYAY! We just stood back and watched the chaos ensue.
The premise of this toy is pretty simple. Put the plastic balls on the spiral popper track, turn on, push down plunger button thing, have ears assaulted by noise level, watch balls fly out, squeal a lot, try to catch them, repeat.
