There’s something both hilarious and mildly humbling about becoming the parent who says, “Back in my day…” And yet here I am.
Because apparently we’ve entered an era where tiny foam blobs named NeeDohs, squishy dumplings with faces, and mystery-packed Squishies have become the equivalent of gold bars in elementary school economics.
If you don’t know what a NeeDoh is, congratulations on either having grown children or being blissfully disconnected from the toy aisle at Target. They’re basically stress balls… but somehow not? They come in different textures, colors, sizes and apparently emotional significance. Kids trade them like stockbrokers. They have favorites. They have rare ones. Some are “too nice to play with.” Which, as a mother spending actual money on them, feels offensive.
And the dumplings? Why are we emotionally attached to squishy dumplings with tiny smiles? I don’t know. But if one goes missing in this house, it triggers a full-scale FBI investigation.
The funniest part is realizing every generation has their version of this.
Because if we’re being honest, the kids of the ’90s weren’t exactly making sound financial or emotional decisions either (or at least our parents weren’t.)
We begged our parents for Beanie Babies like they were retirement investments. I am still waiting on these things to be worth something by the way! We nearly broke our ankles bouncing on Pogo Sticks. We carried Tamagotchis around with the stress level of young single mothers trying to keep a digital blob alive during math class. We had Furby fever. We collected slap bracelets despite schools practically treating them like contraband. We thought mood rings held scientific truth.
And don’t even get me started on Lisa Frank everything.
The girls had inflatable furniture and butterfly hair clips. The boys had Tech Decks and Yo-Yos that somehow came back into style every six months. If your parents bought you Skip-It, congratulations on surviving childhood shin injuries.
Every generation has “the thing.” The must-have item that somehow dominates playground conversations and drains parents’ wallets one $6 squishy at a time.
And honestly? I kind of love it.
Because while I may not fully understand the emotional attachment to a smiling dumpling keychain, I do understand what it feels like to be little and obsessed with something magical and ridiculous. I remember the excitement of finally getting the toy everyone else had.
But somewhere along the way, we became the adults confused by the toys instead of the kids obsessed with them.
And honestly?
That might be the weirdest trend of all.
(Paige Gurgainers is a mom of three girls, digital journalist for Webster Parish Journal.)