A note on packaging

I am now quite thoroughly convinced that toy packaging is designed with the sole intent of reducing parents to gibbering incoherent—we’re trying not to use the F word—idiots who cannot even manage to liberate a toy pony from a box.

To wit: this year, my little girl got a “Precious Princess Pony Palace”—I kid not, that’s the actual name of the toy, someone from alliterations ‘R’ us should be shot—for Christmas. The princess was zip-tied in with a special, molded plastic piece designed for theft prevention attached to the spinning platform. The zip tie was industrial grade, I think my dad used less industrial zip ties to hold my VW bug together in college—I do know he use bailing wire and twine for some parts.

After tearing off the zip tie, we realized that the plastic bit wasn’t part of the toy and needed to be removed, but we couldn’t figure out how. Now realize, the whole time, the child is excitedly pointing at the Precious Princess Pony Palace saying “Princess! Unicorn! Princess! Unicorn!”

It’s not like there’s a stack of dumb people at my house for Christmas morning. Between us we’ve got a Masters in Geology, a Masters in Forensic Psychology, a Bachelor in Forensic Anthropology, enough physics classes for a minor (or a major in Geophysics). In short, a bunch of over educated people trying to pry a princess out of the precious princess pony palace.

Much swearing and shouting things like “Oh Saturn’s Rings this is ridiculous. I have a sword that would take it right off!”

“Don’t you think that’s overkill?”

Ten minutes later: “I’ll get the sword.”

Okay, it wasn’t that bad, but it was ridiculous.

Well, the happy ending is that we liberated the princess and the daughter had many wonderful hours playing with the princess (who was saved from the evil cats by the unicorn). 

As for my WIP, I think I may not have made it clear, but I'm working on a different book now. I'll write more on that tomorrow. Like most of my stories, it's a sordid affair.