Consider the Glowworm

My friend Sara has taken to making gear recommendations on her blog, which, considering most mom-blogs are read by other moms, is a particularly great idea. I was once almost inspired to write a product endorsement of my own for the Bebe au Lait, a "nursing cover for chic mothers," but as a busy nursing mother, never quite found the time. It was a gift from my aunt Molly, and at first I thought it was just a gimmick, though an adorable one. Who needs to carry an extra thing in their diaper bags when a blanket or burp cloth will do just fine, thank you very much? Well, as it turned out, there's something to be said for the bright fabric, easy to find in even the largest diaper bag when your baby is screaming-hungry; and the adjustable neck strap to keep the thing in place; and the terry-cloth pocket, for holding a stray pacifier and wiping up after a burp; and, most of all, the stiff insert at the top, like boning in a gown, that creates a window through which your baby can see you. So voila, product endorsement.

Most of Sara's recommendations have clearly been thoughtfully considered and highly researched- like an idiosynchratic Consumer Reports boiled down for busy modern parents. I will, on occasion going forward, offer a slightly different service: sharing with you the gifts that I never would have bought myself, but which have been surprise hits.

Consider the glowworm.

We were given this gift twice- once for Clio by Dave's uncle Don and family, and once for Eleri by Adrianna, who works for my aunt and uncle, Missy and Jim. Now, as a re-interpreted relic of my own childhood, (I remember playing with these things at way too advanced an age),

there should be a positive nostalgia factor. But the new glowworm is, annoyingly, a BABY glowworm, and like so many toys these days it's super cutesy, with huge eyes and bubbly proportions, influenced, it would seem, by Japanese anime. (I was dismayed when I went to Target this weekend to pick up Memory and CandyLand, two games I loved as a kid that Clio has shown a marked interest in, to discover that a similar fate had befallen these classics.)

So where's the endorsement, you ask?


Eleri loves the thing. When you push it's belly and its face lights up, so does hers; then she laughs delightedly, grabs its ears, and tries to slow dance and make out with it simultaneously. Then she puts it down and quizzically tries to figure out why it glows in the first place. She can do this for hours.


One problem: she can't make it light up and sing all by herself. But Clio can. So I suppose I'm giving this an endorsement with the caveat that you must have an extra kid--in this rare case, a bossy kid is preferable, one who wants to "help" with everything--to actually help with this.

So thank you, Don Chevyoune and Michaela, and Victor and Adrianna, for introducing us to these heretefore unknown delights!