It's what on the inside that crunches

We were recently privileged enough to be invited to this baby's Super Sweet "First" Birthday Bash. When we arrived, (after we were carded and checked off on the guest list, obvs) we were greeted by the birthday girl, who was all decked out in a "special", yet preppy, pink plaid Burberry jumper, with patent leather black Tod's driving moccs. Her ruffled bloomers completed the outfit, with her initials sewn onto the bottom, surrounded by lacy ruffles and flounces.

After having cake and a few temper tantrums, the present opening began. As each gift was unwrapped and revealed, each audience member/guest “oohed” and “ahhed” appropriately.

· Some sort of baby-grand (get it?) electric piano that could make every noise imagineable: "Ooooooooh!!!!" we all murmured, a combination of admiration and perhaps jealousy?

· A new Juicy dress with matching leggings. The chorus all went “Ahhhhhhh!” while her mother chirped something like, “Mommy has this outfit in black!”

· A huge stuffed animal that was three times the size of the birthday girl, with each extremity doubling as a toy; a rattle for a hand, a foot that was a mirror and squeaked…. “Oooooohhh!”

And so on and so on it went for the afternoon.

Once every package and parcel had been opened, the baby had a pile of brand-new fancy toys. Every gift had been hand-picked from upscale boutiques, as to what would best be suited for an one year old with discerning tastes, and equally discerning parents. Despite having half the large room taken up by her bounty of things that sparkled and shined, squeaked and squalled, the thing that had enraptured her mind and heart the most was the also sizable pile of discarded wrapping paper in the corner. Who needs Tiffany’s baubles and Baby Einstein when you can rip noisy things up with wanton abandon?*

It’s easy to forget that if you have simple tastes, you are satisfied with simple things.

Kids are as happy with wrapping paper and big empty boxes as they are with the things that came inside those entrapments. Remember how fun a big empty box was when you were a kid? Who needed fancy toys when you had a big box, an imagination, and siblings that would go along with whatever?

"Welcome to my penthouse. Would you care to nibble some bits with me, you sweet, sweet Webkin...?"
My sister has a chinchilla, and it’s like crack for her- she can’t help but to spend every penny she has on toys and luxurious accommodations for the fat rodent’s cage. (And also, she sniffs it, a lot.)

Seriously though, this thing has it’s own bathroom, tropical inspired hammocks, custom made lofts, a thatch-roofed bungalow, island scenery (to remind it of home?), and gourmet treats hand-fed to it daily… Basically, it’s 6 ft. tall cage is nicer than the Playboy Suite in Vegas. (And yes, just like Vegas, the chinchilla’s cage comes complete with its very own legalized sex trade. While it’s not the use my sister had originally intended for the little stuffed animals that she populated the cage with, she unintentionally became the john of the chinchilla cage. With her weekly rotation of characters, neither the toys nor the chinchilla, nor my sister [who can sleep better when the rodent’s quiet after tiring himself out,] seem to be complaining about the wanton acts of abandon happening in that faux-tropical hideaway…)

And yet, despite all of it’s rodenty accommodations, it’s favorite plaything is the cardboard roll that makes up the center of a paper towel or toilet paper roll. Indeed, he seems to get more pleasure playing with these, than from all of his Furries action combined.

This is why when I went over to my friend’s house the other night; I got really excited and inspired by something I saw in her bed that I thought was ingeniously green. (Ingreenious?)

Scared? (If you knew this friend-- and what could have been in her bed, you probably would be...)

I innocently picked up the little felt cow that lay there, and remarked on how cute it was. Her lab puppy bouncing at my feet trying to grab for it, seemed to obviously agree with me. I felt that there was something hard inside of it, and before I could start to get weirded about what exactly I was holding, my friend gave me the inside scoop. Literally.

You know how you can buy your dog everything in the pet store, and yet when you’re at home, he’s happier drinking water from the toilet bowl, playing with the stuff he can get out of the trashcan, eating poop instead of treats, and falling asleep anywhere? Another case of simple things for simple tastes....

K.I.S.S!
A bunch of genius (possibly dog whispering?) companies have taken note of what of their dogs are telling them, and have accommodated their trashy habits to make them safer, healthier, cleaner and greener.

The cow in my hand was basically a fancy cover for an empty plastic water bottle. I have known many a dog that loved chewing on empty, plastic water bottles (as they are apparently oh-so-fun to crunch on and destroy) and now--they can do just that, while leaving the plastic pieces all confined inside the animal cover, so the dogs cannot make a mess, or hurt themselves --and once the bottle has been sufficiently killed, it is replaceable! And recyclable! Woo hoo!

These bottle covers are available under a few different monikers, some are called "Bottle Crunchers", some are called "Bottle Buddies." They can be found in any pet store, and are available in a ton of places online. They are inexpensive, and can keep a dog satisfied, over and over. (Sort of like stuffed animals for a Chinchilla, in an equally "ew, I don't want to touch that" when they're done with it, kind of way.)

The moral of the stories is that happiness can easily be found in the most mundane of objects, and we shouldn't try so hard, or spend so much, on unnecessary acquirements.

On the plus side--now I know what to get my mother for Mother's Day. (Note to self: start saving those empty toilet paper rolls, now.)

*This was a very important day all around, as we all were reminded of something very important. Her 3-year old brother solemnly informed us that his baby sister DID NOT like it when you smacked her really hard, on the top of her head. Why? Duh! a.) It was not nice, and b.) Her head was still soft.