While I have written about the toy industry for the past 12 years, I never understood it as much as I do now. Those years were spent using my brain and having an academic-quality of interest in toys. That all changed in February, when my son Buck was born.
Buck was a surprise. Not his inception, mind you, but his arrival, which was 6 weeks earlier than expected. Needless to say, the eight days Buck spent in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) were a cheese grater on my nerves. And when I would go home at night, I felt so helpless leaving my boy there alone. Sure, he was very well cared for by the wonderful NICU nurses, but nothing can replace the care, concern and love of parents.
Once he left the incubator, to leave a little piece of us with him, I ventured out and scored Buck a nice mobile that dangles fire trucks and Dalmatians as they orbit the tiny crib. I do realize that it was impossible for my premature baby to connect this swirl of red, white and black to the goofy bearded guy and the short, beautiful woman who kept showing up at his bedside.
Buying that mobile was for me and not for Buck. It did help me feel a little bit better—more in control. It meant something to me to leave a piece of me behind with him while I tended to my wife, dog or, gasp, my own sleep.
The amazing thing is, the other day I laid him down in his new crib for the first time and cranked up that mobile. He erupted in smiles.
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