Ooshies Are Bringing Out The Worst In Our Kids And They Should Be Banned
It appears these squishy Lion King collectables are EVERYWHERE and according to my kids, they are EVERYTHING to EVERYONE.
But as an experienced observer of my kids and their behaviour it has come to my attention, VERY OBVIOUSLY, that Ooshies are absolutely bringing out the worst in my children. And I want them GONE! (the Ooshies, not my kids…)
Since Ooshies have come into my family’s life they have caused nothing but trouble. And yes, this is partly my own doing.
If it wasn’t for my own oversight, we wouldn’t be here in this state of family emergency and I would not be admitting this embarrassing faux pas to you now.
You see, If I had have been more observant I would have realised upon ordering my groceries that a.) we earned way too many of these soft plastic animals and b.) that I could have ticked a box for them not to be sent with my order.
As soon as I saw the mountain of plastic Ooshie bags accompanying my groceries I knew. I knew I would regret my oversight.
“Are they Ooshies?!” Exclaimed my five-year-old daughter before I had even shut the door to our local Woolies delivery man.
“They are not all yours!” Replied my six-year-old as they both pounced on this ‘gift’ that at least I never truly wanted.
Watching them was like a particular scene from the Lion King, the scene that prevents me from taking them to see the live-action version of the movie. Yep, in front of me were my two (usually well behaved) daughters fighting like two animal kings battling for their pride.
It was the battle of the Ooshies.
After breaking up this Ooshie scramble and a firm motherly discussion about behaviour, they decided that sharing these collectables was a much better option. The Ooshies were evenly distributed and the opening of the plastic bags began.
“Oh no, I got twins,” my eldest announced with disappointment as she opened two matching Ooshies. “Triplets,” she cried (literally) about ten seconds later. Yep, out of the four she was given, three were the same.
After more Ooshie fires were put out, it seemed, at least momentarily that all was well (what foolish thoughts).
To be honest, all was well until the next day, up until I took my daughter to her classroom. Upon arrival about four other classmates started extracting their Ooshie collections from their school bags, gravitating to one another like a magnetic Ooshie force was bringing them together. They examined each other’s collections scrupulously.
“That one is rare,” a small school child said.
“Ooooh you have the blue one, that is super rare,” another replied.
It was like an Ooshie cult. All that mattered was Ooshies, which ones you had, what colour they were, what status they had. And with my daughter not bringing hers to school with her that day, she was excluded from this exclusive club because she had no Ooshies to show: cue Ooshie meltdown number three.
Once the Ooshies were put away and life went on as it should (Ooshie free) all was going well. But as I returned home with my daughters from school that afternoon, Grandma came to visit and with her she had… yep, Ooshies (thanks Gma!)
The vicious Ooshie cycle repeated itself – the animal-like fight for Ooshie dominance, the despair of having more than one of the same, followed by a new Ooshie squabble- the discovery of a ‘rare’ Ooshie by only one of my two children.
With these meltdowns, tantrums, literal fighting and arguments that are usually relatively uncommon in our house, I blame Ooshies. In fact, I am going to make a big statement and declare that I completely blame Ooshies for bringing out the worst in my children.
And finally, for the love of peace and humanity, I beg the Ooshie powers, please, please, please make them STOP!
Featured image: Supplied