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AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)
The Elusive Dream Toy
By J’AMY PACHECO
Probably one of the first things a new parent learns is the almost hypnotic power fast food restaurants have over little eaters.
I’m not sure how our family first became regular drive-throughers. I know it wasn’t the quality of the food that attracted us. It may have been brought on by increasing demands on our schedules as our daughter entered school and we found ourselves involved in…well, everything, with little time left for cooking.
More than likely, though, it was the lure of the toys that come packaged with meals sold for children that sucked us in.
One fast food chain in particular has the toy thing pretty much locked up. If there is a very kewl fast food toy out there, this is the chain that will have it.
Ironically, this chain has another dubious distinction in our family — it’s the only one that doesn’t offer a single item of food that my picky eater will consume. She won’t touch a hamburger, despises those deep fried lumps of processed chicken on the children’s menu, and isn’t really interested in anything offered there for adults. Unfortunately, she craves the toys.
Not all the toys are of interest to her. There are others, however, for which she would sacrifice nearly anything (except her arteries, for nothing could make her eat the food).
Consequently, Mom — a.k.a., me, — has become the primary consumer of children’s food at this particular restaurant.
One would think it would be a simple thing to drive through a restaurant, order a child’s meal and drive away with the toy of the child’s dreams.
It’s not.
A recent promotion, for example, offered small figurines of Disney characters, and I begrudgingly began eating tiny cheeseburgers so she could start her collection. Her first prize was a Minnie Mouse.
So was her second, and her third. Workers assured us we could save the duplicates and trade them in for other figurines when they were available, but since the characters came with the opportunity to win a trip to Disney World, my daughter was compelled to open each one.
I kept eating and eventually, we added some variety — Pluto, Chip-and-Dale, Simba, Goofy and her favorite of all — Tinker Bell. In spite of my best efforts, though, we were never able to find a restaurant offering the big kahuna — Mickey himself, or the Stitch character her best friend’s brother wanted.
Sheesh.
It brought back memories of another promotion, years ago, in which little dolls were given away. My daughter received a bazillion miniature brides and grooms, but truly pined for the adorable little Peter Pan that was included in the series. I ate and ate, and never found him.
In desperation, during a trip from the High Desert to Los Angeles, I stopped at every branch of this fast food restaurant I could see from the freeway. Unwilling to choke down another cheeseburger unrewarded, I asked which doll the restaurant had on hand, and left without opening my purse if it wasn’t Peter Pan.
Unfortunately, it never was, and my daughter never got her Neverland guy. And I never got my big question answered — why does it have to be so complicated?
We’ve had similar experiences when little Barbie dolls are given away. We’d go to the same restaurant every day, and never succeed at getting a particular doll. It’s enough to make me crazy. (Or maybe it’s all the grease that’s doing that.)
Anyway, with the understanding that a new little doll promotion was beginning, I entered a drive-through this week. After I was trapped in line, I was advised that “those dolls have already been given out.” So I ordered a soda, and drove home.
Wondering how I’d missed the entire thing, I logged onto the company’s Website — only to learn the promotion had started two days before, and was slated to run through Oct. 27.
If I’d been in the car, I’d have banged my head on the steering wheel in frustration.
In finally figured out how to solve my problem. (This one, at least.) I found a Mickey figurine on eBay, and against my better judgment, placed a tiny bid on it. And as for the little dolls — well, I’m just going to steer clear of the restaurant for a while and hope my daughter forgets about them.
She may not appreciate it, but my arteries certainly will.
Copyright 2005, Metropolitan News Company