That old Christmas chestnut of children's gifts.

Christmas is upon us and it’s time for advertorials thinly disguised as social commentary, like a recent offering from The Guardian: “Are you a Pank - Professional, Aunt, No Kids?” Essentially, your Christmas purpose is to keep the economy thriving by indulging your siblings’ offspring with stuff. Whether my sister is spending US$387 per annum on each of our children largely depends on how often they sting her for a trip to the cafe, but while this figure seems outrageous, it isn’t terribly difficult to drop $400 on a child in a given calendar year. If it was difficult, I wouldn’t have my childlike adoration of Christmas shattered by the annual realisation of how damnably expensive it all is, and I wouldn’t be so bewildered by how my kids have so much stuff.

Now our families and friends are mostly restrained when it comes to birthdays and Christmas, and we’re most certainly of the “mean parent” variety, so our two cherubs have noticeably fewer toys than many of their peers. I applaud you, sensible family members and dear friends of ours. That all said, the children have still received more toys in their short lives than I did in my entire eighteen years of official childhood.

And kids these days get a lot of collective grief about all their possessions, like somehow they’re to blame. Oooh, look at those ungrateful brats with their 76 teddy bears; they just don’t know the value of things.

Well, guess what? Chances are the four-year-old didn’t buy those teddy bears, and my money is on the parents absolutely loathing them, but out of a sense of obligation to be a grateful receiver of well-meaning gifts, can’t just throw them all away come January 6th.

So in its deliberate attempt to sell stuff, the article on PANKS (far better than Wealthy Aunt, No Kids, I suppose) first fails to address the fact that adults without children shouldn’t feel any compulsion to buy things for other people’s kids, but secondly, it ignores the very real problem faced by parents with insufficient toy storage capacity or indeed a desire to have all that stuff in their houses: Toys cost far less now than they did 30 years ago, and there are significantly more adults with disposable income buying presents for fewer children than perhaps ever before. Consequently, middle-class western children have significantly more stuff than they need.

You only need to consider the some rough unverified economics. When I was a kid, soft toys were fiendishly expensive. I can’t recall exactly what my Care Bear Cousin or Cabbage Patch Kid cost - because I didn’t purchase them - but I'm pretty sure the Cabbage Patch Kid was well over NZ$50 and may have been bordering on $75. I didn’t concern myself at the time with how Santa afforded it, but I did know that I could only get the Care Bear as a very special, really extraordinary treat. Care Bears were imported and expensive, and would have been more in dollar value than their equivalents today - you can easily pick one up for NZ$30. When you consider inflation since the late 1980s, this put our childhood toys into a category of almost luxury goods.

But while the price of milk has steadily risen, the price of toys has dropped substantially, and they are available in consumer locations and quantities that would have seemed laughably excessive in the laughably excessive 1980s. Consequently, without any effort, you can spend very little on a child’s birthday present and still have it take up considerable cupboard/floor space in a child’s bedroom.

And parents are really at a loss as to how to deal with all this stuff. You can give blanket bans on presents, but such requests are typically ignored or actively resented. Furthermore, most of the gifts are not in themselves excessive, it’s just the cumulative effect.

Let’s go back to the people buying the presents. Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, and family friends without children. There have always been people who have some claim on a child and have always had the tendency to buy slightly lavish gifts. And that’s cool. You’re meant to get awesome presents from your “rich” Uncle overseas.

But there’s just an awful lot of them now. When I was a child, most of my parents’ friends had children, and certainly weren’t making a habit of buying presents for me. My parents’ friends without children tended not to have the income to throw gifts around, but they also had nieces and nephews of their own who got first dibs on their largesse. My uncles and aunts with one exception had children, and I was lucky to get some socks or a funny knickknack on Christmas Day. Or the greatest Xmas prize - the family sampler biscuit box.

My kids, however, are the only grandchildren on both sides, so counting grandparents and uncle and aunts, right off the bat they have 7 adults with disposable incomes who have no other immediately related children to buy for; 9 if you count my sisters-in-law; 11 if you count me and my husband. But really, we don’t count, because we’re parents and have no disposable income!

Furthermore, many of my friend who aren't parents don’t even have nieces and nephews, and some of my parents’ friends don’t have grandchildren. Now if you want to know a group of solvent individuals who really want to buy presents for children, it’s retirees without grandchildren. Their numbers are growing, but they still feel deprived and will acquire quasi-grandkids whether anyone involved likes it or not!

So as much as easy consumerism needs a good talking to, I don’t want to lay any blame today in this social commentary, but offer a solution for all people, parents or sane adults alike, when it comes to children’s presents; a couple of simple question to ask yourself before you drop $24.99 on a glitter and bead craft that looks kind of fun, but which you probably wouldn’t want in your house.

What is my relationship to this child?

Did the equivalent person in my life ever buy presents for me?

If the answer is no, then probably no one will notice if you don’t give a present.

And if you still feel you ought to buy a present or just really want to, step away from the stuffed animals and buy a book. Or some $4.99 felt-tip pens.

You can never go wrong with a book, and kids always love pens. 

P.S. And if you really do have $387 to spend on a child each year, perhaps offer to help out with the fees for ballet lessons or similar. Chances are the parents will fall at your feet in eternal praise.