Maybe it is a matter of life experience.

I just saw on Facebook a picture of a man that had the image of a cochlear implant headpiece and processor tattooed on his head in support of his daughter that has a cochlear implant. Further down in the thread someone mentioned they knew a mother that had an image of an insulin pump tattooed on herself in support of her son that has diabetes. Another support item I have seen come across Facebook is the posts about Mattel making a bald Barbie for children suffering from cancer and have lost their hair as they go through treatment.

Our daughters were little girls when the Cabbage Patch dolls were the rage. During that time our middle daughter, Paula, needed to get glasses in order to see the blackboard at school. She was not thrilled about having to wear glasses and being the stoic child that she was, she did not show a lot of emotion regarding this development. Cabbage Patch dolls came with unique accessories and of course they had one with glasses. I thought it would be cool and make her feel better about having to wear eyeglasses if we got her a doll with spectacles. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Eventually Paula was able to tell me that she was disappointed when she opened up her doll and saw that it had glasses. She really did not want to be reminded of her eyewear every time she looked at her doll. She wanted a cute doll; a dream doll. When I thought about what she said I understood and wished I had realized that play time is often a time when we are acting out what we hope for.

I grew up with Barbies. I loved my Barbie doll and it was not detrimental to me that she had perfect hair and make-up or that she had an impossible to achieve figure. When I played with my girlfriends and dressed up my Barbie doll, it was play time, fantasy and dreams. Escape from reality. Don’t we all need time for that?

I wear bilateral cochlear implants. I hear so well with them that there are days when I forget that I am deaf! Do you know what a good feeling that was to actually get to a spot in time where I was able to stop, reflect and realized I just had such a good time in my life that I actually forgot about being deaf? Then there is the reality that hits at the end of each day when I take my processors off and I’m thrown into total silence. Forgetting is a temporary and welcome relief.

When I see these displays of support, or requests for a toymaker to develop a doll that reflects the trauma of illness, I ask myself, “Is this really good?” It might be for some, but not in my experience. I worry that children that need a break from their life won’t be able to get it. We don’t always need to be looking into a mirror of reality. Sometimes we need some fantasy and dreams where we might develop some hope.