We live in a “baby desert”. Not to be confused with a baby dessert, which is either made of or for babies. Unappealing in either case.

Anyhoo, in our “baby desert”, we have little access to toys, clothing and so forth. I should say little options. We do have one or two independent retailers, a Walmart and T.J. Max, but if they ain’t got it, you’re screwed. The closest Target is 1.5 hrs away and that one just opened last year! Boy were people excited. And pissed.

Along comes Amazon and the bounty of lovely and hideous items it offers: a Pandora’s box of crap and cool. As a new mom with limited options, it was a godsend. I could get that Becco baby carrier that I read about in a listicle or that obscure but necessary teether (looking at you, Sophie la Giraffe) within 2 days. My husband bought a glider for $150 from the hospital on his phone one hour after I gave birth to the boy-child. The glider was there by the time we arrived home! These are amazing times we live in, but y’all know that. Y’all probably all have Prime.

I take these things for granted now, so when the toy I ordered for boychild’s birthday didn’t arrive by the due date, I was a little nervous. But hey- that’s cool. I ordered it early. Should be here by his birthday. Hell no, it wasn’t. So I harangued the people at the post office, called FedEx, wrung my hands. I called T.J. Max, Walmart, various purveyors of used crap and that one place that we got his dollhouse (yes, he has a dollhouse) to see if they had my exceptional toy. No dice. Baby wasn’t getting that toy for his birthday! GASP!

He didn’t care. You know what? He played with a purple Mylar balloon more than anything we bought him. The next day he played with the noisemakers from the dollar mart. Today’s big hit was a book of stickers for $1.99.

Listen, I know we live in a capitalist society, and that we’re always being sold to. Our fears are monetized. Am I a good enough mom? Did I get him the right thing? Will he grow up to be an idiot because he didn’t get X, Y or Z? Enrichment toys. Sensory toys. Toys for sorting and stacking and experimenting with vivisection. Well, maybe not the last one.

I thought that I was immune to that philosophy. Hey- I read The Feminine Mystique. I know how advertising taps into deep insecurities to make people buy stuff they don’t need to fill a hole: a hole that was created by the ad people to present an idealized version of who we’re supposed to be. I work at a non-profit, live in a Socialist State and don’t have cable and yet I still equated love with presents. I guess it’s so ingrained in me that if the child doesn’t have enough wrapped crap on his birthday or Christmas that he’ll think I don’t love him.

The real gift from Amazon is pointing out that I don’t have to spend $56 on a plastic thingy to show my kid I love him. He’s fine with a balloon and a party horn. Thanks, Amazon. Now gimme my money back.