DADDY DIARY | Cliffo's Annoying Toddler Toy Confessions

Can you relate?

DADDY DIARY | Cliffo's Annoying Toddler Toy Confessions

When we were kids mum used to tell my brother and I, “All the best children’s toys don’t need batteries.” I have no idea where she plucked this proverb from, but it was one she lived her life by. I don’t know if this rule came to fruition because it was the 90’s and batteries were expensive or if it’s an actual thing that people say. Either way, it was a rule in the Clifton house for many, many years. But sadly, it’s a rule my mother hasn’t followed through into her grandparenthood.

You see recently my mother gifted my daughter one of her recycled dollies. My mum, scavenger hunts through op shops, garage sales and probably even tip shops to find disused toy dolls that were once treasured possessions; it’s all very Toy Story, “My owner doesn’t love me anymore.” Being the clean freak, she is, mum disinfects these dolls to within an inch of their life, then hand-knits them cardigans, jumpers and even little booties. She then sells them at the markets finding them all new homes, it’s actually pretty sweet. But the doll, Lola, that mum gifted my daughter, I can’t stand. Plus Lola clearly breaches Lesley Clifton’s no toys with batteries policy.

You see, Lola’s a crier. I don’t mean she sobs quietly, like me watching new ep’s of Queer Eye on Netflix, I mean she’s a loud, moaning crier. She always wants something; her dummy, her bottle, a hug. It’s neverending! The worst incident happened when Matilda had a bad dream at 2.30am and ended up in our bed; a practice we don’t encourage but as we all know does happen. So, there we were in bed, the three of us or so I thought. Just after nodding back off, I heard it, “MUUUMMMYYY.” The piercing cry of Lola right in my eardrum; it was a very Chucky from Child’s Play moment. “No dolls in bed”, I told my daughter. “It’s a new rule”, I announced to the family. Matilda reluctantly agreed, and Lola was sent promptly back to the lounge room toy box. In the morning I was happy with our new toy rule. It didn’t take my wife long though, to point out that the last bizarre toy rule she had heard me ranting about was my mum’s no toys with batteries rule. And now, here I was, proclaiming toy rules like the emperor of North Queensland; the irony.

I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

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