Among the other loot in the house, the kids got a Sit and Spin for Xmas. This one is my fault. This was one of the toys I remember loving as a child. You sit and whirl yourself around until you feel fluttery in your stomach and you can’t stand up straight. I have nothing but good memories attached to this thing. That and my Mickey Mouse Club bouncey ball (the things you hold on to and hop on top of) are 2 of the toys I remember best from being really little. I figured Stella would adore it now and Felix would adore it in another couple of years.
I chose poorly. I chose so so poorly.
These things are horribly dangerous. Stella gave herself a shiner with it on Xmas morning. Not only do my children both want to stand on the damn thing, Stella likes to pick it up and haul it away at top speed to get it away from her brother. She’s certainly strong enough to do this, but isn’t so good at looking at where she’s going. I’ve already been bludgeoned in the head once with it while she does this, trying to shield Felix from it. True story.
The Sit and Spin ought to be called the Eat Shit and Spin. It sits sequestered in the vomitorium most of the time. How could my memories be so wrong? How could something so wonderful and fun from my own childhood become something so malevolent in the hands of my own children? It’s like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man in Ghostbusters. I think it can destroy us.