I went to target today to get Sophie a little baby-toilet, and of the four toilets on the shelf, three of them talked. I swear I’m not making this up. The boxes boasted of the toilet’s phrases: “Good job!” “You get a sticker!” repeated in an insufferably cheerful voice, I’m sure. I can’t believe that the marketing forces of Baby, Inc. think that I want my baby to be peeing onto batteries that parrot a manic Spinnerian. The toilets were ugly, too: bulky and with too many tiny parts to clean, but I might have bought them except that they talked.
Ben says it would be more interesting if we could record our own phrases. “Way to shit! You go, girl.” This makes me laugh, but in about ten minutes, I bet it would irritate me too.
I finally found a nice, sleek, plain toilet that just receives pooh. Its name is boon, in case you too need to find a baby-toilet.
I had this same trouble when I was trying to find a drum for little Sophie. I just wanted something that she could bang on that was a little less loud than the metal tops to our cooking pots. But all the drums I could find had lights and bells and whistles that defeat the whole notion of teaching her cause-and-effect, not to mention the joy of creating her own music. I had to search to find this one – and every time another mom comes over, she asks where I got it, because it’s that hard to just find a drum that drums. Or a toilet that toilets, apparently. It’s ridiculous.