Books.
Or books.
Seriously, books.
Look, I’m not fucking about here. Books. Easily the most reliably well-received things. They have a high longevity/re-use factor. If you choose vaguely wisely (something from an actual bookshop that you’ve flicked through and liked, rather than almost anything by igloo books, or crap filler from a not-bookshop) the parents will surely thank you for the respite from the repeat cycle through their existing bookshelf. And they don’t take up too much storage space.
Everyday clothes (rather than a fancy frock, or whatever) are almost a ditto of the above. Y’know, just some cool tees or trews.
Failing that, something wooden.
Or something that’s a toy animal.
Maybe even something that’s a wooden toy animal in some way?
Anything plastic that isn’t Lego is probably shit. Especially if there’s a wooden version of it.
I don’t mind noisy at all. Shakers, tambourines, that accordian hedgehog (by Skip-Hop*), xylophones, pianos, drums. Bring it on. Let’s make a racket and have a dance at the same time. It’s all good. Battery powered pushbutton-activated shitbleeps and nafftunes? They can piss off.
Avoid pink. Pink isn’t bad per se. I love it as a colour. But it just fucking …materialises and accumulates in a hugely out of proportion way in the girl-arena.
No Disney, thanks.
