As the kids crowded around the big boxes with a Swedish return address, I tried to adjust the expectations of the older ones. I told them that most of what was inside would be for Coop, maybe even everything. The bouncing on the balls of the feet told me that I had failed completely. My words were no match for the prospect of a giant box from a Swedish toymaker.

A while back, a woman named Helga, no lie, contacted me on behalf of a cool toy manufacturer. They were in the process of relaunching their website and wanted some articles and photos, and she asked if I would be interested in contributing some articles and maybe some photos. The pay would be in toys. Now, most self-respecting writers would probably turn such an offer down flat, but I jumped on it like Daddy Brad on a sixer of tallboys. Free toys? Ultimately the value of the goods didn’t really matter. Done and done. I’m that kind of writer. Need somebody to write 1000 words on diarrhea by next Tuesday for a bottle of Makers and a sack of lollipops, I’m your guy. It’s this kind of hard-nosed business sense that led me to invest heavily in online video.

Within five minutes of opening the box, I’m chest pounding, strutting proud that I’ve brought home the carcass for my pups. Coop and Ri-ri are busy putting together the City Rescue train set, improvising games. Bubba has busted out the throwback Labyrinth Puzzle game and is working the pitch and yaw controls with an enthusiasm that makes me want to set his PS2 on fire. But one package remains clamped tightly between my legs. Every time the kids ask about it, I ask a question in return about the toys they are playing with. When they finally get too close, I run to my bedroom and shove it in the very back of the closet. What could cause me to act in such a way? From their website:

This Dachshund pull-toy is a giant-sized version of our pint-sized classic. Measuring in at 2.5 times the size of the original 1953 design, this collector’s edition Dachshund features solid beech wood construction – and you can feel the weight! This pull-toy also includes the features that made the original so endearing. Off-set wheels make him “waddle”, a spring mounted tail bobs back and forth, and floppy head and ears move back-and-forth as he is pulled along. Packaged in a premium window box with carry handle.” It’s the kind of toy that parents that read Daddytypes would buy their kids to pull around their Lower Manhattan neighborhood. Coop is young enough to be interested in it for a little while, but am I going to pull a “collector’s edition” out of the original packaging so he can play with it for two seconds before going back to the HotWheels and non-public TV that his non-design minded, non-urban-hip parents allow him to indulge in? No way, José. So what to do with it? Is there anyone with a one-year-old that I care about enough to bestow it as a gift? Not freaking likely. Rig up some contest on DadLabs and award it to some faithful reader/viewer. Dream on, Bucko. Hoard it for resale on eBay to pay for college? Have another kid so she can play with it? An interesting thought. But would we have to name her Brio?