Subscribe via RSSMerry toy assembly period
Monday, December 04, 2006 |
This time of year reminds me of that feeling ... that magical feeling of when you are a kid and anything is possible.
Have you ever wanted something so badly, it was like a mob of teenage girls outside a teenage girls stuff store bustling to get in? Perhaps teenage girls weren't the best analogy. After all, teenage girls are a mystery wrapped in an enigma covered with glitter.
Let me try again.
Have you ever wanted something so badly, it was like a rabid Suzanne Somers trying to get to a Thighmaster?
I am surprisingly bad at analogies.
Let's try this.
I remember back to my childhood, flipping through glossy catalogs dreaming of toys, but there was only one thing that I really wanted.
The one thing that made my preteenage pulse race like two mice on steroids in a straight-a-way was the Armatron. The Armatron was a robotic arm that stood about 16 inches tall and was controlled by a set of joysticks and plastic buttons.
It was truly preteen geek nirvana. I envisioned handling tiny crucibles of Silly Putty Uranium with the robotic arm in my quest for the perfect nuclear bottle rocket.
Of course, I was practical, in a 9-year-old sort of way. I could brush my teeth with it, eat cereal or even pinch the cat.
True, I could do none of those things without rapidly moving my head back and forth in front of the toothbrush or bribing my brother with a Darth Vader action figure to hold the cat down, but it's a robotic arm!
As impractical as it seems, there is only pure joy in the three hours it will take to move three pencils 12 inches. Alas, the Armatron eludes me to this day.
It is now time to get serious about this Christmas season, or as I like to call it, "The 2006 Toy Assembly Period."
Having three children, I typically spend from Dec. 24 through the New Year's Day televised parade putting together the booty our kids have plundered.
By Kwanzaa, my knuckles are swollen from the plastic-covered twisty-ties. I reserve "Boxing Day" as the day to deal with the boxes that have piled up in the house, and it's also the day I bid farewell to my Christmas fort.
The next day, I will continue my vigil of assembly armed with a smattering of weird tools that I have accumulated from previous Christmas gifts. These specialized tools are the weird uncle of the tool family.
The open-end wrench with a screwdriver on the other side or the Allen wrench connected to what appears to be a wood chisel and a stuffed weasel or some other nonergonomic tool-wannabe.
It was different when I was younger. I remember getting gifts at Christmas and then needing perhaps a dollop of glue or a rubber band to hold them together.
No metric torque wrenches or combination level-hand mixer. How did we survive? The Armatron needed no assembly at all! It could unpack itself if you could get your arms in the box.
How did our toys ever arrive undamaged without being adhered to a thick piece of foam core with 13,568 plastic-covered wires? No industrial clear tape, heavy-duty crate staples or enough molded clear plastic to reconstruct Cher. It's truly amazing that our toys ever worked at all!
This year, I am preparing for the onslaught of assembly. My power tools are charged, my tool belt is full, and I purchased a few extra rolls of duct tape for those toys that need to be assembled in a "nontraditional" method.
All I have left to do is move that roll of duct tape 10 inches to the right and I will be ready. Armatron, where are you?
