1985 was the year of Teddy Ruxpin, and I, like almost every other child in America, became mesmerized by this small-scale animatronic world of wonder.
Teddy Ruxpin was the ultimate baby-sitter in a box. To a parent, he was a battery-operated storyteller -- complete with 40 taped adventures that illustrated the value of friendship and the benefits of sharing.
To a child, he was an instant friend -- one who shared his fanciful stories, blinked his plastic eyes and moved his mouth as if he was real.
This, at least, is what I think having Teddy Ruxpin as my friend would have been like. I really can't say since my parents never bought me one.
No, that doesn't sound too bitter.
While I wasn't the quintessential spoiled, only child, I'd have to say that Santa was usually very generous at Christmas. Living with two sets of "parents" (my grandparents and my parents) usually meant a boatload of gifts that guaranteed an obscenely gleeful Christmas morning.
However, there were some toys that I was destined never to own. The rock tumbler (you already have one). The Easy-Bake Oven (too dangerous). The Ouija Board (toy of the devil). The ventriloquist's dummy (also the toy of the devil).
To my parents, Teddy Ruxpin fell into the devil's spawn category -- and, to a certain extent I would have to agree that he was a bit creepy.
He was evil in a Snuggle sort of way. You know, cute and innocent to mask his sinister plans.
Well, that's at least how my family viewed Snuggle.
In spite of his seemingly evil ulterior motives, Teddy Ruxpin was really quite a neat toy and he remained in the top spot on my Christmas list.


