Demented Toys

If ever you were standing in a crowd and you wanted to find out who was a parent, just sing “Hello puppy calling”.  The parents will either curl into a ball, screaming, or will reply “Do you want to play with me? Let’s have fun together whilst we learn our ABC.”. They’ll hate themselves for it, but it’s not their fault.  It’s the fault of this:

 

Run.  Run as fast as you can.   Don’t look back.  Ever. 

It’s a VTech baby walker.  It’s supposed to be a support for a little one as they start to walk.  That’s not its main role, however.  Oh no.  It exists in the main to play tunes that claw their way into your memory and take up instant residence.  You can hear just the very beginning of one of them at the start of the day and by 11am you’re tearing your ears off.  That isn’t an exaggeration*.

But that’s not the worst part.

The toy plays TO ITSELF.

At the moment I’m upstairs in the house on my own.  Everyone else left 10 minutes ago, it’s at least 20 minutes since the last person touched the toy, and I can hear its tinny song wafting up the stairs.  It’s pretty sinister.

Only matched by this:

 

Moi?  

This little gem may look benign.  Don’t be fooled.  A few months ago hubby was away and the boys were asleep.  At about 10pm I heard a sort of mewing/growling sound.  I couldn’t find where it was coming from.  Then I noticed that the sounds were coming regularly, about a minute apart.  I searched the toy box, behind the sofa, checked the radio, made sure the phone was on the hook, had a quick scout outside but there it was, every 60 seconds, sounding like a rabid cat.

Having had no joy, I went upstairs.  It was no good.  I could still hear it.  I went back downstairs.  A more exhaustive, yet spasmodic search ensued, as I had to give it a quick blast when I heard the sound and then wait quietly for  the next growl.  It took a little while but eventually I found that it was coming from the green dragon.

The strange thing about it is that whilst the fuzzy green dragon does make a sound, it’s really hard to make it work.  You have to press a precise location at a precise pressure (it wasn’t an expensive toy).  H has only just been able to do it on his own.   However, for this one night only, it was deciding to speak.

I tried to remove the batteries but they were sewn into the head.  In the end I shut it in the toy box, went back upstairs, shut the door, put the radio on and put a pillow over my head.   In the morning it had stopped.  It’s never done it since.

I don’t mind making room in our house for an obscene amount of lurid plastic.  It’s a necessary side effect of having children. I do, however, take exception to them talking back.  Quite frankly, that’s just rude and, should it happen again, will result in immediate banishment.

Yep, my house is now a place of Zero Tolerance For Possessed Toys.  Hurrah.

 

*Ok, maybe just a little one.  But not much…