Stuff I’ve Learned from Pottery Barn Kids
Let me start by saying that I’m not out to d’iss PB Kids. I love PB Kids. I even own a few PB Kids items. Not enough that they should spend so much dough sending me catalogs every day, but I enjoy the light reading.
I’d even go so far as to say I’d live in the catalog if I could. No joke, I’d pull up my pink kiddie Adirondack on the dock of my lakeside home, shielded from the sun by my pink polka dot mini-umbrella (because the big ones are just, well, too big), snuggle up with my coordinating outdoor throw pillow, and sip my cosmo from my (also pink polka dot) Klean Kanteen water bottle (with my name on it, of course). I’d cook on my pink stove (yes, I’d cook if I had a pink stove) and serve tea with my pink porcelain tea set. I’d sweat pink.
To take a break from the sun, I’d go inside to my perfectly organized playroom and choose from the myriad of educationally stimulating products my parents have selected. I’d paint. I’d read. I’d make selections from perfectly labeled bins — games, paper, and art — and briefly wonder whether my parents feared illiteracy.
Truth be told, life would be grand.
Alas, I don’t live in the PB Kids catalog and it’s not all fun and games. PB Kids is out to teach; and I’m here to learn. As a parent, there’s stuff I need to know and this, friends, is the go-to resource. And because I’m a good sharer — I’d have learned that in the catalog, too — here are my favorite lessons:
A rice krispy treats and cheese sandwich is a perfectly acceptable lunch option, but only if it’s shaped in my child’s initial. Also, when my child ineveitably loses his lunchbox at school one day, he will be emailed about its return. (Dear Reader, I tried so very hard to find this image for you. It’s really my favorite. If I should find it, or if you do and would be so kind as to notify me, I’d be thrilled to post.)
Children in the PB Kids catalog require no adult supervision. Ergo, if I shop PB Kids, my son will take care of himself. Done.
A theme can never be taken too far. If the kids who live in this room vomit stars and stripes, no one should be surprised. Just sayin’.
It is of the utmost importance that my child knows his name and how to spell it. Dire, even. Putting my child’s name on everything will eliminate any confusion he currently experiences.
I can never present my child with too many home organization options.
I shan’t be fooled by paint colors like Blue Marguerite. I have an aunt named Marguerite. And she’s not blue. So there.
See, now, PB Kids schools me right.