For a legend
Last week I walked your aisles, or what was left of them. Honestly I stopped by looking for some deeply discounted water balloons. But it hit me walking through the door, into an entrance that hasn't changed a single bit in my thirty-six years. This would be our last time together.
The jingle, word for word, played over and over through my head as I wandered slowly and remembered.
My beloved sparkly hula hoop and extra-long jump rope and bouncy pogo ball came from here.
As did the umpteen gazillion Barbies cluttering the bottom of my closet, along with her limo and hospital room set. What an honor it was to pass through those shelves, drinking in the neon fuschia, thinking, I got that. Of course then beginning to drool as the Dream House popped into view.
And oh, the Crayola aisle. I remember circling in the Christmas catalog this set of like 150 crayons with a built in sharpener. And there it was, under the tree. With a crisp new coloring book. Oh my goodness, y'all.
It was as exciting as a vacation, the ultimate parent question: "Want to go to Toys R Us?" Why yes, every single time! And every time, the angels would sing as we walked through that very familiar entrance.
We met again years later, my belly swollen with boy, walking through the baby section and being surprised that there was a baby section. Had this been here all along? Would a kid have time to notice such a thing?
You've been there too for those baby boys growing up. Boys who were, like their Mama before them, beyond excited to be part of the legend. Of course inventory has changed for them, but how thankful I am that the video game section never grew too big.
Your demise is a reflection of what's wrong with this generation. I fully aware of how much a hypocrite I am at this moment, since our family basically keeps Amazon in business.
But how sad, how very sad this is that we have lost the one place just for kids to actually see physical things and imagine and, Lord forbid, have to weigh options and make a choice and use actual dollars instead of just one-click purchasing everything.
Trey and Aden even think it's sad. I tell them of my childhood, the good old days, when Toys R Us was all we had. How we only got to go a couple times a year and the allowance stash had grown pretty big by then. How the Christmas catalog arriving in the mailbox was almost as big an event as Christmas morning. Nothing online, nothing delivered, no entitlement, everything appreciated and cherished.
Thank you, Toys R Us, for putting us kids first and hanging on long enough so ours could know you even for a while. I'm sorry for what we did to you, but will never forget the pure joy that you were.
I don't wanna grow up
Cause baby if I did
I wouldn't be a Toys R Us kid
The jingle, word for word, played over and over through my head as I wandered slowly and remembered.
My beloved sparkly hula hoop and extra-long jump rope and bouncy pogo ball came from here.
As did the umpteen gazillion Barbies cluttering the bottom of my closet, along with her limo and hospital room set. What an honor it was to pass through those shelves, drinking in the neon fuschia, thinking, I got that. Of course then beginning to drool as the Dream House popped into view.
And oh, the Crayola aisle. I remember circling in the Christmas catalog this set of like 150 crayons with a built in sharpener. And there it was, under the tree. With a crisp new coloring book. Oh my goodness, y'all.
It was as exciting as a vacation, the ultimate parent question: "Want to go to Toys R Us?" Why yes, every single time! And every time, the angels would sing as we walked through that very familiar entrance.
We met again years later, my belly swollen with boy, walking through the baby section and being surprised that there was a baby section. Had this been here all along? Would a kid have time to notice such a thing?
You've been there too for those baby boys growing up. Boys who were, like their Mama before them, beyond excited to be part of the legend. Of course inventory has changed for them, but how thankful I am that the video game section never grew too big.
Your demise is a reflection of what's wrong with this generation. I fully aware of how much a hypocrite I am at this moment, since our family basically keeps Amazon in business.
But how sad, how very sad this is that we have lost the one place just for kids to actually see physical things and imagine and, Lord forbid, have to weigh options and make a choice and use actual dollars instead of just one-click purchasing everything.
Trey and Aden even think it's sad. I tell them of my childhood, the good old days, when Toys R Us was all we had. How we only got to go a couple times a year and the allowance stash had grown pretty big by then. How the Christmas catalog arriving in the mailbox was almost as big an event as Christmas morning. Nothing online, nothing delivered, no entitlement, everything appreciated and cherished.
Thank you, Toys R Us, for putting us kids first and hanging on long enough so ours could know you even for a while. I'm sorry for what we did to you, but will never forget the pure joy that you were.
Cause baby if I did
I wouldn't be a Toys R Us kid
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