Like most children, nothing appeals more than a commercial for a product that requires you to dial an 800 number. Chia pets, Super-sharp knives, Blend-o-matics, Proactive, ANYTHING, you slap an 800 number and the order that you must be 18 or older to call, and a kid is going to want it. My brother asked for a dirt devil for his 6th birthday. And I wanted Magic Rocks for christmas.
I knew it would take some strategic planning to get my parents on board. I only asked for Magic Rocks, and something that I knew my parents would NOT be ok with.
Maybe you guys need a quick refresher of what magic rocks are. They are these little colored pellets that you simply drop in water and they dissolve and create rock formations in their little fish tank. They are awesome and toxic, so therefore the perfect gift for a child of the 90s. That, along with certain other treasures:
On Christmas morning, I was elated to find exactly what I had wanted right away. This is what someone looks like when they receive their dream gift:
Obviously, I had wanted to start growing rocks right away. Only I couldn’t. Dad had to go in to the hospital for work, and mom was busy doing mom things. She told me that I would have to wait a few hours and then one of them would help me.
The box started taunting me. I could hear the rocks screaming for some water, waiting for their eventual majestic growth and stature. It was cruel of me to listen to my mom.
|I steered clear from the ugly purple one.|
So, I decided to wing it. I didn’t need parent’s supervision. I’d seen the commercials a hundred times. Those kids just whipped some pellets into water and ten minutes later, BAM a magic rock kingdom! I could do it, I knew I could.
So I set to work. I got the aquarium out of the box, filled it up with water, threw the instructions away, and grabbed the colored rocks. I plopped the rocks in, one at a time in strategic places, so I would have beautiful formations in the perfect spots. I watched in amazement as the rocks began to dissolve upwards and their stunning colors shoot to the top of the water. And it kept going. And going. And no rocks were forming.
Something had gone horribly wrong. I ran to the garbage and dug out the instructions. Ah, I had skipped step 2: add solution to water. I hadn’t known there was solution involved. I held on the the vain hope that I could fix what I had done, and grabbed my box. Sure enough, there was a packet of liquid goo at the bottom. I ripped it open and poured it into my toxic brown sludge.
I was devastated. My best Christmas gift, and I ruined it before the day was over. My mom walked into the room and saw my abortion in an aquarium. “I told you to wait, and you didn’t, so this is your punishment. I’m not buying you a new one,” she said.
I hadn’t expected her to buy me a new one. I had already learned enough life lessons to chalk that up to a lost cause. I HAD expected more of a lecture. But it was Christmas after all.