On Danish Kids (also, an update)

It's been ridiculous recently, sorry I haven't been posting.

As you may or may not know, I was in Brussels, the Hague, and Amsterdam all last week, so my internet access was unreliable at best.  Lessons I learned on that trip:

• Even most EU citizens are confused about what the EU does
• Sharing a room with 11 other people is detrimental to my ability to sleep
• A man with a faucet on his head isn't normal, but in Amsterdam it is

Also, I learned that somehow, in spite of being like one-tenth its size, Copenhagen Kastrup Airport is substantially more confusing than Amsterdam-Schipol Airport.  But that's another story for another day.  And by "another day," I mean we're never going to discuss it again.

Today, we took a tour of the Danish Parliament, the Folketing.  Admittedly, I'd done this before, but it was kind of cool to get one from a prominent Parliamentarian and we ended up talking about our impressions of Denmark - namely Danish attitudes towards children.

Which is what I thought I'd talk to you all about today.  The Danes have a very different idea about children and childhood than we have in the States.  Children are given a lot of freedom - I've seen 6 or 7 year olds riding the Metro alone or in small groups, and apparently in a kindergarten class one of my friends is working with, the students are given a lot more free choice about what they're going to do with their time.

The stereotypical example is that Danish mothers will often leave baby carriages (with the babies inside) outside of stores and cafes while they go inside, because the likelihood that your child will get kidnapped in Copenhagen is unfathomably small.

But I just think the level of independence and choice they give children is really interesting.  We structure the lives of children so much to help and protect them, but from what I can see, Danish kids seem to do pretty well on their own.

Pedagogically? yours,
Rachel Leigh

On Little Kids and Amusement Parks

This is less a Dane-centric post and more one of my traditional rants inspired by something I noticed.

Yesterday I went to LEGOLAND in Billund, Denmark, which is about three and a half/four hours from Copenhagen.  It was a) totally awesome and b) full of small children, because that is what amusement parks generally are.

Which led me to notice how many of these small children looked absolutely miserable.  Which got me thinking -- How much of "children loving amusement parks" is really their parents WANTING them to love amusement parks?  I'm sorry, but your two year old doesn't want to be here.  Your two year old is too small to ride most of the rides, is probably overwhelmed and distressed by the number of strangers, and would probably rather be taking a nap than coming to Legoland where they cannot eat or poop on anything, which, from what I gather, are babies' favorite pastimes.

I always had a love-hate relationship with amusement parks, especially when I was younger.  As much as I love the lights and sounds and games and park food, I was always really terrified of most park rides which meant that I was stuck either going on rides that scared me (and crying because I was miserable) or waiting for everyone else to go on them (and being bored).  As much as I did genuinely enjoy going to amusement parks, there were parts that sucked, parts that I couldn't really vocalize the suckage of until I was much older.

So take your kids to amusement parks when they're seven and can tell you whether or not they really like it.  Don't drag them there when they're too little to have any fun or to tell you that they're not.

Yours exhaustedly after a long day at Legoland,
Rachel Leigh

On Toys That Ruined My Childhood

A happy Sunday, my darling readers!

The other day, my mother posted a link on my Facebook Timeline (yes, my mother has a Facebook and, yes, I have Timeline...these are both old news, get over it), that Hasbro is re-introducing one of their most popular toys: Furby.

I was 6 years old when the original Furby released in 1998, and like everyone I knew at the time, I wanted one, because they looked so damn cute, and also I secretly wanted a Gremlin (seriously, have you SEEN Gizmo? He's like the cutest thing to ever exist).


How can you say no to that face?

 But what Hasbro appears not to realize is that while Furby may have made them more money than Lincoln Logs could ever possibly hope to be worth (which, by the way, is complete crap, because Lincoln Logs were the definition of awesome), no one actually liked their Furbies.  What appeared to be an adorable, fuzzy knock-off of the pet every child born after 1984 ever wanted was actually a demonic, bird-like doll from Hell that most of the world was intent on destroying.

   

The look on its face says "I will destroy everything you love."

The freaky little thing had a ridiculously sensitive light and motion sensor which often caused it to wake up in the middle of the night, scaring the crap out of anyone and everyone in the room.  And then it would croak out "Furby huuuuungry..." and you'd have to feed it with the tip of your freaking finger, like Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors.  The damn thing was one step short of demanding human sacrifices.

Hasbro, if you're listening, I'm begging you not to release these little monsters back into the homes of children everywhere.  I, for one, gave mine a proper burial in the bottom of my closet for many years before finally getting rid of it.  And if you don't believe that I'm not the only one who has a reason to want them gone, I suggest searching YouTube for the phrase "death to furby."  There are guys there with firecrackers and drills who would gladly vouch for me.

Having nightmares about the Furby Apocalypse,
Rachel Leigh