Remember when we were kids, and people were beating the shit out of each other in toy stores while trying to get their hands on a Cabbage Patch doll? Or a Furby? Well, here we go again. This year’s hottest holiday toy is the Hatchimal. It’s a toy egg that contains a little Furby-like animal that combines the features of penguins, dragons, and Koala bears. After 30 minutes of continuous play, the egg actually hatches and the little creature pops out.
Hatchimals are sold out all over the place, and people are going nuts trying to find them. But, since this is 2016 and we’re all entitled, participation trophy-receiving, millennial helicopter parents, instead of beating the crap out of each other or telling our kids “tough shit,” we’re apparently supposed to write our kids apology letters from Santa for his failure to make their Christmas dreams come true.
All over Facebook people, people are sharing their take on Hatchimal apology letters.
The letters explain how sorry Santa and Mrs. Claus are that they could not make it rain Hatchimals on Christmas morning.
One letter calls the issue a delay and promises “an elf will deliver the Hatchimal to your home” as soon as “the egg laying process” is complete.
What the actual fuck? We’re telling kids this is a legit egg that needs laying now?
Another letter says the North Pole is no longer delivering Hatchimals in an effort to protect them from “future decline and possible extinction” and asks kids to please remove the toy from their Christmas wish lists.
While this last letter gets an A+ for creativity, it also kind of makes you wonder when Christmas lists became a binding contract.
When I was a kid, you filled your Christmas wish list with all sorts of crazy shit, knowing “Santa” would deliver a few items, but definitely not everything you wanted.
If you got that Skip It you really wanted, it was fucking sweet. If not, you played with your Baby Alive and got over it. There was no such thing as Santa apologizing for not meeting your demands. Why should kids even grow up with the expectation that someone should apologize for not giving them everything they want?
As a mom, I understand the urge to not want to disappoint your kids. But, as a rational human being, I also realize what a luxury it is to be able to get holiday presents at all, and I think it’s kind of our job to make sure kids understand that. Plus, finding these “hottest toys of the season” is a total pain in the ass.
Here’s the letter kids dying for Hatchimals should actually be receiving this year:
Dear Tiny Dictator,
This year, as I reviewed your holiday wish list, I noticed you wrote down that you want a Hatchimal (you actually spelled it “hashimull,” but I’ve known you long enough to speak your twisted language).
You should know that, as your designated gift provider, I strive to give you all the things you want and make your life magical AF so you don’t end up in therapy one day whining about how you never got a Barbie Dream House. You should also know that Hatchimals have been sold out since early November, and I am not a goddamn magician.
I could lie to you and tell you Hatchimals went extinct or that one of Santa’s elves will deliver one to you in early January, but I think heartbreak builds character. After all, you watched me roll up to school drop-off in a Madam President shirt for 8 months only to end up with a president-elect Donald Trump, and look how much stronger I’ve gotten since then. I can almost say the Pledge of Allegiance without crying.
You won’t be getting a Hatchimal this year. You probably won’t get one ever, since by the time they’re back in stock, no one will care about them anymore. At best, you’ll get to play with a friend’s Hatchimal when you find it lost beneath their bed and collecting dust during a sleepover next spring. That’s what happens to these “hot” toys—they end up at the bottom of a toy box after 45 minutes, because they’re stupid.
If you got one, you’d quickly see how stupid it is. But, you won’t be getting one so just take my word for it. Hatchimals are stupid, and life is often unfair. I hope you’re able to make peace with these harsh realities and have a Merry Christmas anyway.