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Meet Etch-a-Sketch. My old nemesis. Not really scary, actually not even a little bit scary physically. Emotionally though? There are scars from this toy. I was the artsy child. My crayoning skills were legendary. Etch-a-Sketch should have been easy, but it wasn’t. In fact all my un-artsy friends were better at then I was…am. My three years old is a better at this then I am. Give me paint, pens, pencils, sidewalk chalk, coffee and tea stains – any medium of your choice and I can make it work, I can get it, generally, to do what I want. Give me a plastic box with two knobs on it and I my hands start to shake from the haunting memories of failure.

This, in theory, is even less scary than an Etch-a-sketch. It should be really, but it’s not. Not to me. I had (Okay, have) what is called an “over active imagination.” If this book was read before bed time I would lay awake at night and worry over the next time the bird lost its mother. What if it couldn’t find her? What if that dog had been hungry and had eaten the little bird? Dogs did that, I had seen our dog eat small animals before, what if that floppy eared hound had hungry friends and a pack of growling lazy dogs decided to make that little bird dinner? Or the crane? I had played with those double handled bucket scoopers at the park sandbox. They were like a crane and they were hard. A real crane had to be harder, what if it ran over the little bird? Or dropped it in the wrong tree? What then P.D. Eastman? What about that? You psychotic bird hater. You giver of childrens nightmares; I see through your adorablely frank word play and I cry foul.


All I have to say about this is the person who thought Satan and his minions rising from a mountain of graves and death during a movie filled with unicorns and ballerina hippo’s is a new level of child hater. The naked women dancing in the flames of the destroyer is somehow to me, personally, not really where Disney should have taken that. I mean, really.

This looks adorable and that’s because it is. These guys are robotic bunnies from Japan and the white one on the left is standing in for the robotic made in China rabbit I had when I was 5. It was not this adorable. It was white, and much more anatomically correct with it’s proportions, no over sized head and tiny ears. Also genetically correct, if you didn’t know, white albino rabbits come with red eyes. Red eyes of hate. And the robotics? It was suppose to jump forward, but this was in no way whatsoever done smoothly or silently so what you got instead of fluffy white rabbit hip hoping around the room was a jerky, clacking, red eyed demon of horror stumbling across the room towards you like it was in the death throws of a grand mal seziure. It was obvious to me from the start that its one goal before it died from being just that horrible was to drag your soul from your body in the red glowing anti-light of its eyes and then click clack its way to hell with you.

Here’s a real blast from the past. This toy actually belonged to my little sisters, but like everything else that was theirs it was mine because I was the oldest and I said so. I LOVED the cartoons and the books about Teddy Ruxpin. LOVED I TELL YOU! An actual Teddy Ruxpin should be so much more awesome right? Wrong. It was also a robot and more so then the rabbit because it talked. His head moved, his eyes blinked, his mouth open and shut…take all the things wrong with the the rabbit and put them in the bear topped off with the gift of speach. The whir of 80’s era mechanics made an unatural and disturbing back drop to glassy plastic-y-ness of the eyes hidden and reveiled by thick heavy eyelids. Its eyelids didn’t shut so much as slam close and then drag themselves open again and stare off into the distance…unless you had your back to it, then you could feel them watching you. Polish that off with the fact that it would sing, or try. Mostly my sisters and I played with it by taking turns sticking our fingers in its mouth while it was “talking” and pulling them out again as fast as we could so as not to get bit, and it was apt because the idea that this thing would just get up and start marching down the hall after us in an attempt to devour us was not hard to image, not at all.
I’m reasonably confident the only way I survived the robot horror of my childhood is because Albino bunny and Ruxpin took eachother out “Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus” style.

What sort of toys did you hate (or love?) from your childhood?

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4 Comments

  1. Dolls, A-listers of toy creepiness.

  2. I don't remember toys from my childhood that freaked me out, but when I was a teenager, my cousins had these talking baby dolls and holy crap! It was like demonic possession of a doll. And every once in a while they'd just go off… when there was no one playing with them. It is my firm believe that inanimate objects should not be given the power of speech. Except Furby. Furby does cute baby talk, and eventually… Furby shuts up.

  3. TEDDY RUXPIN!!! Oh how I loved him! He was not a scary toy to me…he put me to sleep with his story telling. :)But I couldn't agree with you more about Fantasia…seriously what were they thinking when they made that movie?!? That is one movie I won't be letting Kyera watch anytime soon. FREAKY!!~Your little sis~

  4. Dear god. They all look so innocent…the idea that they were almost all hidden death machines sends a shiver down my spine. The description of your demonic bunny reminds me very strongly of the Terminator. Perhaps it was from the future, sent to ambush you when your back was turned so you couldn't grow older and write this blog post, thus cluing us in to the robotic bunny scourge? Something to consider at any rate. Maybe you should keep a closer eye on your replacement rabbits, in case they're TermaBunny 2.0? This post had me in stitches the entire time. I'm still giggling now. Thank you 🙂


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