Oh, Santa. You’re stuck with a pickle this year, aren’t you? You’ve got two kids to buy for and while one is forging ahead into unchartered territory of real bikes and electronics, the baby (who helps with your crossword, but you haven’t had another child so she’s “the baby”) just inherits everything. Second Baby Syndrome strikes again. AMIRITE?
Seriously, what do you buy a second kid who is just a hair behind the first kid when you already have all the crap from the first baby to hand down? Who needs two sets of gizmos and brain buzzers for the under-three crowd? (“Three” being the universal choking hazard age, before which every toy is made of giant foam and after which, every toy requires batteries and is stamped with a trademark from Nickelodeon or Disney.) So what do you get the second kid? Or the third? And who can even remember if they had a fourth baby?
1. Crap that got destroyed from the first kid, no matter how boring: Socks, undershirts, Tylenol! If her big sister is getting a Huffy bike then the little one is will be happy getting winter tights, right? Low expectations, kid. It’s the key to happiness. And hey, it all looks the same in wrapping paper under the tree. Maybe with all the tearing and throwing Christmas morning, the little one won’t even notice her future therapy sessions strewn around the floor. Besides, she’ll eventually get the bike so it’s kind of okay.
It’s just like a Barbie Ferrari!
2. Her sister’s old toys. Oh, you bad one, you. You just wrap up the crap you have in storage and voile! SANTA PRESENTS! This really only works if the baby is truly a baby and the big one does not remember 2010. You are totally busted if you have an older kid like mine who could crack a simian code while writing classical music with her toes and sneaking lattes in her sippy. The shit. My big kid is like the love child of Stewie and Dr. Evil. I’m screwed. Save yourself! It’s recycliiiing . . . **Blows away in a cyclone of terror***
“This looks familiar. I’ll plot Jenna’s death after my snooze.”
3. All that stuff you meant to get the first baby, but you were too poor, overwhelmed or snobby. You had a stick up your butt about wooden toys and real books, but that was for the first baby. She wasn’t allowed to eat anything but organic whole grains and entertain herself with overrated stuff like “imagination”. You were super mom! You were amazing! You were on the Internet too much and reading that earth mama crap; you were a first time mom. Now with two kids, shit is real. Now you let the kids watch commercials for battery-powered gizmos while they gnaw on delicious cheez product. So go. Get to Toys R’ Us and make a disgusting haul of Dora Saves A Mermaid Princess DVDs so the kids can zone out and you can take a Kindle break.
“Hi! I’m Dora! Can you spot the hypocrisy from when you were a first time parent? [Long blinking pause] Good!”
4. Better stuff than her big sister is getting because you like healthy competition and dog fights and sadism. No really. Buy the big one clothes for school and get the little one this $38,000 play house, which is about the same price and size as this real house.
Or you could just move into this life-sized doll house because when educated people do things it’s a movement. When people where I come from do things, it’s called a trailer.
Filed under: How-To