I wheeled my trolley along the aisles of a huge toy superstore. It was our son’s seventh birthday in a couple of day’s time. Life had been as tightly packed as a winter holiday suitcase, and we had three hours to find him a present. There were hundreds of toys on each row of shelves, plastic, shrink-wrapped, stuffed, weird, or the kind that eats batteries for breakfast, as well as for lunch and dinner. Dad went to check out the remote controlled range, and I went to look at the educational toys. At least we didn’t have to explore the baby and toddler aisles any more, so that eliminated about one tenth of the vast store. I trundled up and down the rows until I had visual overload from looking at so many bright colours.
We were trying to find a toy that would stand up to our son’s rigorous quality control testing (Mmm. I wonder what happens if you jump up and down on this twenty times. . . . Ouch! I wonder how much pressure this will take till it. . . . Oh no! And what if I take it in the bath with me. . . . Fizzle, fizzle?). We also wanted to find something that was good value for money, was educational or required physical activity, didn’t need batteries, was fun and versatile, and wouldn’t clutter up his bedroom, and didn’t plug into the telly or the computer.
In the end we bought a football. But we left the store feeling somehow frustrated. Surely, out of thousands of modern toys, we could have found something more imaginative than a football?
We remembered his first birthday, when he opened all the presents politely and then got his teeth into the wrapping paper. At bedtime we found him asleep in the big box that had contained his brand new pedal car, clutching a handful of coloured ribbons. The car was parked under the table for days until the box wore out!
A few years later I was clearing out the toys the children didn’t want anymore. It was interesting to see what they kept and what they didn’t want. There were about seven remote-controlled vehicles that weren’t remotely controllable any more; a pile of gizmos whose novelty had worn out before the first battery; a heap of soft toys in strange shapes and colours; and games that had lost or broken one tiny but significant component. The things they kept were sports equipment; construction toys; some games that we all loved playing together as a family; and a few favourite books, computer games, videos and soft toys; and some craft materials. So much for all the shrink-wrapped plastic creations piled up in the toy-superstore!
One of my friends was shocked at how much space her children’s toys were taking up in her home. Each birthday and Christmas more and more things would be given to the children by all their different relatives. It was great fun getting the presents, but it was hard for the children to keep them tidy and under control. Bits of toys would escape into strange places and cause all kinds of problems when they were accidentally flushed down the toilet, or they were trodden on by bare feet. Homework and odd socks were engulfed by the avalanche of boxed games, baby dolls and brontosauruses. After a good sort out they decided that each time they were given a new toy, they had to give an old one to a charity shop. They also encouraged friends and relatives to put money towards a few larger toys rather than lots of smaller ones.
One day I was chatting to the guy who was doing my hair. He didn’t have any children of his own, but he had a nephew and niece. Christmas was coming and we were talking about the challenge of finding presents for everyone. He said he had stopped buying things for people and he gave them ‘experiences’ instead. He was going to give his niece ballet lessons and his nephew a season ticket, with his dad, for the local football club. He said it was much more fun to give people something that would make a real difference in their life, give them some fun memories, save the world’s resources, and not clutter up their homes.
What a brilliant idea, I thought, that makes so much sense! Since then our family present-giving habits have changed. Bernie, my husband, has sent me on a photography course, a day at a spa with a friend, and a quilting class, and my daughter gave me a voucher for a manicure. We gave Bernie a trial flight in a Cessna, but all the time he was up in the air I was scared he would crash, and then it would be our fault for paying for him to go up into the sky in something that looked like an overgrown mosquito! But this year he wants to fly a glider – which seems to me a bit like an adult version of one of those rubber-band fuelled polystyrene aeroplane toys, possible even more unsafe than the fragile-looking Cessna! One thing is certain, whatever happens, it will be an experience none of us will ever forget!
It’s not that we don’t ever give ‘things’, or the occasional crazy present, but occasionally we try to be a bit more creative and thoughtful. Our lives have lots of space for interesting experiences, but our home doesn’t have much space for lots of extra things!
The best bit has been that we have been able to buy most of these gifts over the phone, or via the Internet, without ever having to struggle with awkward shaped-bags of presents through a Christmas-crowded shopping mall.
Thanks for the memories Here are some ideas for low-clutter and experiential gifts:
Music, art, craft, or sports lessons – if you want to give a small gift too, give something that they would need during the lessons, such as paints, goggles, sports equipment, etc.
Plant a tree in a special place, and dedicate it to someone. Make sure they come with you to choose the tree and to help you plant it. Some forestry projects can help you to do this. Contact the Forestry Commission at www.forestry.gov.uk
Vouchers of all kinds, from books and music to clothes and gardening, give everyone the chance to choose their own present, which can be lots of fun
Give interesting experiences, instead of presents, such as tickets to a football game, musical concert or show, or membership to an organisation such as the National Trust at www.nationaltrust.org.uk or English Heritage at www.english-heritage.org.uk
Adopt a zoo animal in someone’s name and they may also get free tickets to visit the animal several times a year. Try your nearest zoo and ask about adoption schemes.
Buy a gift for a family in a developing country, such as a goat or chickens, on behalf of your friend or family member, and give them a gift card to let them know what you have done. Try www.oxfam.co.uk
Teach someone a skill that you have, as a gift for them.
Make a set of your own vouchers for a friend, offering your services in all kinds of ways that they might enjoy and appreciate.
Give a basket of things that would normally be used up, or be useful, such as a basket of Italian, Indian or Mexican food items; a box of interesting of hand-made greeting cards; a package of supplies for their favourite hobby; or art and craft items for a child.
Give your friend, or a child, the gift of a whole day of your time, and do whatever they would like you to do with them, whether it‘s helping them to clean their kitchen; walking with them along their favourite path; helping them shop for a new outfit; or doing something unusual that neither of you have ever tried before!
Instead of thinking of a gift for each person in family, try something different like buying them something they could all enjoy together, such as a good kite, special game, vouchers for a meal out, or a boxed set of their favourite DVDs.
One friend of mine buys £1 gift vouchers instead of cards, because a card costs more than £1 and isn’t much use, but at least the £1 can be spent on something.
If you are buying gifts, think about using a charity catalogue so that the money you spend goes towards a good cause. Try Greenpeace www.greenpeace.org.uk for ecological presents and Traidcraft www.traidcraft.co.uk for gifts that support small business and community work projects in developing countries.
I wheeled my trolley along the aisles of a huge toy superstore. It was our son’s seventh birthday in a couple of day’s time. Life had been as tightly packed as a winter holiday suitcase, and we had three hours to find him a present. There were hundreds of toys on each row of shelves, plastic, shrink-wrapped, stuffed, weird, or the kind that eats batteries for breakfast, as well as for lunch and dinner. Dad went to check out the remote controlled range, and I went to look at the educational toys. At least we didn’t have to explore the baby and toddler aisles any more, so that eliminated about one tenth of the vast store. I trundled up and down the rows until I had visual overload from looking at so many bright colours.
