You know, Herman, I was listening to that audio Daniel sent over this morning while I was making coffee, and I could actually hear little Ezra in the background. It sounded like he was having a grand old time with that Paddington Bear sleepy time thing he was talking about.
Herman Poppleberry here, and yeah, I heard that too. It is a classic scene, right? The toddler is completely engrossed in this specialized, soft, probably quite expensive little folding toy. But Daniel’s question really strikes at the heart of something every modern parent is wrestling with. We live in this world where we are told that every single object a child touches needs to be a cognitive building block, a neuro-developmental catalyst, or some kind of genius-making machine.
It is overwhelming. And specifically for them, living in a smaller apartment here in Jerusalem, space is at a premium. You cannot just have a dedicated playroom that looks like a toy store warehouse. But then you have the social pressure. The well-meaning grandparents, the friends, the birthday parties. It is like this constant tide of plastic and plush that washes into your living room.
Exactly. And I love that Daniel brought up the clinical nature of the packaging. If you walk down the toy aisle of any major retailer today, it does not look like a place for fun. It looks like a pharmacy for the brain. You see labels like, improves fine motor skills, or targets spatial reasoning for ages eighteen to twenty-four months. It is as if we have pathologized play. We have turned it into a series of checklists and benchmarks. In fact, the global educational toy market is projected to surpass thirty-five billion dollars by the end of this year, twenty-twenty-six. That is a lot of money being spent on the promise of a smarter toddler.
Right, and it makes you wonder who the toy is actually for. Is it for the child to enjoy, or is it for the parent to feel like they are successfully optimizing their child’s future career in engineering? I mean, I am all for development, obviously, but there is this weird tension where the toy becomes a stand-in for the interaction itself.
That is a huge point. There is a term for this in some of the research I have been looking into called the toy-to-interaction ratio. A landmark study published in JAMA Pediatrics a few years back showed that when infants play with electronic toys that talk or sing, parents use fewer words and have fewer back-and-forth exchanges compared to when they play with traditional toys or books. The more bells, whistles, and pre-programmed sequences a toy has, the less the child and the parent actually have to interact with each other or with the physical world in a creative way. If a toy does everything for you, what is left for the child’s imagination to do?
It reminds me of that old saying that the best toy for a child is the box the expensive toy came in. Because the box can be a rocket ship, a cave, a drum, or a house. In design circles, they call this the Theory of Loose Parts. The idea is that materials that can be moved, carried, combined, and taken apart provide way more cognitive stimulation than a static, single-purpose toy. The Paddington Bear sleepy time thing, as cute as it is, has a very specific intended use. It is a script.
And that brings us perfectly to the book Daniel mentioned, Hunt, Gather, Parent by Michaeleen Doucleff. I have actually been diving into her work recently because it challenges almost every assumption we have in the West about what it means to be a good parent. Doucleff is an NPR reporter who took her three-year-old daughter, Rosy, to visit Maya families in Mexico, Inuit families in the Arctic, and Hadzabe families in Tanzania.
I remember you mentioning her. The prologue she wrote is quite raw. She talks about hitting rock bottom, feeling like she was in a constant battle with her daughter. The biting, the kicking, the tantrums. And she tried the authoritative approach, the firm and kind method we all hear about, and it just kept backfiring.
It backfired because she was still stuck in this child-centered framework. One of the most radical things she points out about toys in these other cultures is that, for the most part, they barely exist. In the Maya village she visited, the children did not have bins of Legos or educational tablets. They had the world. They had the kitchen. They had the garden.
This is where it gets interesting for Daniel’s decluttering mission. Doucleff observes that in these cultures, children are not viewed as a separate class of citizens who need to be constantly entertained with specialized objects. Instead, they are viewed as helpers-in-training. They are integrated into the adult world from day one. She uses the acronym TEAM—Togetherness, Encouragement, Autonomy, and Maturity.
Yes! There is this amazing scene where she describes Maya mothers cooking. The children are there, and they might have a tiny bit of dough to play with, or a small, dull knife to help peel a vegetable. They are learning real skills through observation and participation. The toy, in that context, is just a smaller version of a real tool. It is not a clinical brain-builder; it is a gateway to being a helpful member of the family.
It seems like we have created this artificial divide. We say, okay, now it is time for the child to play with their toys so the adults can do the real work of cleaning, cooking, and living. But then the child feels excluded from the real work, so they act out to get attention, which leads to the tantrums Daniel was hearing about in the book. Then the parents buy more toys to keep the child occupied, and the cycle just repeats.
It is a self-perpetuating loop of clutter and conflict. Doucleff talks about how Western parents often feel like they have to be their child’s playmate. We feel guilty if we are not on the floor playing blocks for two hours. But in many of the cultures she studied, the parents almost never play with the children in that way. They are too busy living. The children play with each other, or they simply exist alongside the adults, observing how life works.
So, if we apply this to Daniel’s situation, the question isn't how many toys does Ezra need, but rather, how much of Ezra’s life is centered around toys versus being centered around the family’s daily rhythm? If they are trying to declutter their apartment, maybe the answer isn't finding better storage for the toys, but radically reducing the number of toys and inviting Ezra into the chores.
I can hear the skeptics now, though. People saying, but my kid loves their toys! And they do. But there is a difference between a child being entertained and a child being engaged. A child can be entertained by a flashing plastic toy for ten minutes, but they can be engaged by helping wash plastic containers in the sink for forty-five minutes. One creates more clutter and requires more parent-as-entertainer energy. The other actually gets the dishes done and teaches the child that they are a valuable, contributing member of the household.
That is the MEMP model she mentions in the book, right? Model, Encourage, Monitor, Participate. It is about showing them how to be a person. I want to go back to the toy packaging for a second, though. Herman, you are the researcher here. Is there actually any solid evidence that these educational toys do what they claim? Like, if a toy says it boosts IQ or language development, is there a peer-reviewed study behind that specific piece of plastic?
Generally speaking? No. Not in the way they imply. Most of those claims are what we call science-y marketing. They take a general concept, like the fact that children learn through sensory input, and then they leap to the conclusion that this specific textured ball is essential for neural pathway development. There was a famous study about the so-called Mozart Effect years ago, where people thought playing classical music for babies made them geniuses. It turned out to be almost entirely bunk, but it launched a billion-dollar industry of educational toys.
It is a guilt-based economy. If you don't buy the neuro-toy, you are holding your child back. But the irony is that the most educational thing in a child’s environment is usually the parents' faces and voices. The way we talk to them, the way we explain how a door hinge works, the way we name the vegetables at the market. That is where the brain development is happening.
And the toys can actually get in the way of that. There is research showing that when a toy has electronic sounds and lights, parents actually talk to their children less during play. They let the toy do the talking. But if a child is playing with a set of plain wooden blocks, the parent is much more likely to say things like, oh, you are putting the red one on top of the blue one, or, look how tall that tower is getting. The simple toy facilitates more language than the talking toy.
So Daniel’s instinct that toys should just be fun and that interaction is more important is actually backed up by the science. He is not depriving Ezra by getting rid of the clutter; he is potentially opening up more space for meaningful engagement.
Exactly. Now, I have to address Daniel’s idea about the repurposed Roomba. Corn, you know I love a good hack. The idea of a toddler riding a robotic vacuum like a little chariot is hilarious. But as the resident nerd here, I have to put on my safety goggles for a second.
I knew this was coming. You are going to talk about the weight limit, aren't you?
I have to! Most consumer Roombas are designed to carry a payload of maybe five to ten pounds, basically just their own internal components and a bit of dust. A toddler, even a small one like Ezra, is going to be twenty or thirty pounds. You are going to burn out the drive motors in about ten minutes. Not to mention the center of gravity issues. One quick turn and that Roomba becomes a catapult. Plus, those lithium-ion batteries are not designed to be sat upon by a wiggly human.
Fair enough. But the spirit of the idea is great. It is Daniel looking at an adult tool and thinking, how can this be play? That is exactly what Doucleff is talking about. It is finding the joy in the mundane machinery of life. Maybe Ezra doesn't ride the Roomba, but maybe he helps Daniel empty the dust bin and sees how the brushes work. That is an engineering lesson right there.
That is a much better approach. And it doesn't take up any extra square footage in the apartment. It is using what you already have. You know, we have done over five hundred episodes of this show, and we have talked a lot about technology and the future, but sometimes the most forward-thinking thing you can do is look at how humans have lived for the last ninety-nine percent of our history.
That is the core of the Hunt, Gather, Parent philosophy. We are living in a tiny, weird blip of human history where we think children need specialized plastic environments. For thousands of generations, children just grew up in the middle of everything. They played with sticks, they played with dirt, they played with the dog, and they helped their parents.
And those children grew up to be remarkably competent. Doucleff points out that in many of these cultures, you don't see the kind of teenage rebellion or helplessness that we take for granted in the West. Because the children have been given real responsibility and real roles in the family since they were toddlers. They don't need to rebel to find their identity; their identity is already woven into the survival of the group.
It makes me think about the toys we receive as gifts. It is hard to say no to family. But if we change our perspective, we can see those gifts not as obligations, but as opportunities to curate. Maybe you keep the one or two things that truly spark Ezra’s imagination, and the rest you donate or pass on. You are not being ungrateful; you are being a steward of your home environment.
And you can communicate that to friends and family. You can say, we are really focusing on open-ended play and involving Ezra in our daily routines, so we are trying to keep the toy count low. If you want to get him something, maybe a child-sized broom or a little garden shovel would be great. Or better yet, an experience. A trip to the zoo or the park.
I like that. It shifts the focus from the object to the relationship. You know, I was reading a bit more of the attachment Daniel sent, and there is that beautiful part where Elizabeth Tegumiar, the Inuit mother, says to Doucleff, I think you know better how to handle her now. It wasn't because Doucleff learned a new discipline technique; it was because she learned a new way of being with her child.
It is a shift from being a manager to being a mentor. If you view your child as a problem to be solved or a project to be optimized, you are always going to be stressed. But if you view them as a new member of the team who just needs to learn the ropes, the whole dynamic changes. The toys stop being tools to keep them away from you and start being things you might occasionally use together.
Let’s talk about the practical side of this for a minute. If Daniel and his wife are looking to declutter, how do they decide what stays and what goes? Based on what we have discussed, I would say step one is getting rid of anything that only has one way to play with it. If it is a toy that just plays a song when you hit a button, it is probably a candidate for the donation bin.
Agreed. The second step would be to look for toys that encourage movement or social interaction. Things like balls, or even just a set of simple silks or cloths that can become capes or blankets or curtains. Those take up almost no space but have infinite play value.
And step three, which is the hardest but most rewarding, is to look at your own daily routine. What are you doing that you could let Ezra help with? If you are folding laundry, can he match the socks? If you are wiping down the table, can he have his own little cloth? It sounds like more work initially, and it is, but the long-term payoff in his confidence and your sanity is huge.
There is this great concept called the help-first mindset. In many of the cultures Doucleff visited, parents never force their children to help. They just expect them to, and they welcome the help, even if it is messy and slow at first. If a two-year-old wants to help stir the pot, you let them stir, even if some of it spills. Because if you say, no, go play with your toys, you are teaching them that their help isn't wanted. And then when they are ten and you want them to do the dishes, they have already learned that chores are something they are excluded from.
It is a long game. Parenting is the ultimate long game. I think that is what Daniel is feeling. He wants Ezra to be fun and he wants their interaction to be the focus, but he is getting distracted by the clinical noise of the toy industry. It is okay to tune that out. It is okay to have a living room that looks like a home for adults where a child also lives, rather than a daycare center that adults are crashing in.
That is a great way to put it. A home for adults where a child also lives. It honors everyone’s needs. And in a city like Jerusalem, where space is tight and the history is so deep, there is something very fitting about that. We are surrounded by thousands of years of human history here. People have been raising children in these stone houses long before plastic was ever invented. They didn't have developmental toys, but they had community, they had work, and they had each other.
It puts things in perspective. You don't need a thousand-dollar nursery and a mountain of toys to raise a brilliant, kind human being. You need a calm parent and a sense of belonging. I think Daniel is already halfway there just by asking these questions and being mindful of the environment he is creating.
Absolutely. And I think the fact that he is listening to Ezra in the background and noticing his joy with a simple bear is a great sign. It shows he is present. That presence is the most important thing. You can't buy it at a toy store, and it doesn't come with a developmental label, but it is the foundation of everything.
You know, we should probably mention that we are not child psychologists, just two brothers who read a lot and love a good intellectual deep dive. But the themes in Hunt, Gather, Parent really do align with a lot of the evolutionary psychology we have discussed on the show before. Humans are wired for connection and contribution, not just consumption and entertainment.
Exactly. We are social animals. We thrive when we feel useful. That applies to toddlers just as much as it applies to adults. Maybe even more so, because they are in such a rapid phase of learning how the world works. If the world they are presented with is just a series of plastic objects, they are going to struggle to understand the real world of people and work.
I think this is a great place to wrap up this part of the discussion. Daniel, I hope this gives you some fuel for your decluttering fire. Don't feel guilty about getting rid of the noise. Ezra will be just fine with fewer toys and more of you.
And if you do end up making that Roomba chariot, please send us a video. Just, you know, maybe put a helmet on him and keep it on the low speed setting. For science.
Always the safety inspector, Herman. But seriously, this was a great topic. It is amazing how a simple question about toys can lead to such deep questions about how we choose to live our lives and raise the next generation.
It really is. It is all connected. The clutter in our homes is often just a reflection of the clutter in our minds about what we think we are supposed to be doing. When you clear one, it helps clear the other.
Well said. And hey, to all of our listeners out there, if you have been enjoying My Weird Prompts and our little deep dives into the quirks of modern life, we would really appreciate it if you could leave us a review on your podcast app or over on Spotify. It genuinely helps other people find the show and keeps this collaboration going.
It really does. We love hearing from you and seeing the community grow. If you want to get in touch or search through our archive of over five hundred episodes, you can find everything at myweirdprompts.com. We have covered everything from the ethics of artificial intelligence to the history of urban planning, and now, the philosophy of toddler toys.
It is a wide-ranging show, that is for sure. Thanks for joining us today in Jerusalem. This has been My Weird Prompts. I am Corn.
And I am Herman Poppleberry. We will talk to you next time.
Goodbye, everyone!
Take care.
