By Patrick Boyle
© Newsday
Dec. 12, 1997

Hey, kids. Forget about believing in Santa. The new question is: Do you believe in Geoffrey?

Geoffrey the giraffe is the mascot at Toys "R" Us, which has just introduced a Christmas shopping tactic that is either a cutting-edge innovation in gift-giving or a cutting-edge technique for making a spoiled brat.

It's called the Toys "R" Us Gift Registry - a sort of bridal registry for people who are about a decade too young to get married. Toys "R" Us figures: Why should registries be only for adults who happen to be changing their entire lives and setting up a new home? Kids have needs, too - and they are entitled to certain gifts from the people who love them.

It works this way: You sign up your children in the computerized Gift Registry. The clerk hands you a portable electronic scanner, like the ones used by cashiers. You and the kids walk around zapping the scanner at toys that other people should buy for them. The scanner feeds the choices to the computer, which shares the list with every Toys "R" Us in the country.

This is a big improvement over the traditional Christmas wish list that kids give to Santa or, when the Santa gig is up, to mom and dad. The shortfall in the traditional system is that most children understand that the wish list is just a suggestion, that the gift is determined by the giver. What kind of kid would issue a nationally distributed inventory of what to buy and where?

A Toys "R" Us kid, that's who. With Geoffrey's help, kids can now make it unmistakably clear what they expect adults to give them. No excuses for buying the wrong toy, Uncle Joe. The Toys people say that if everyone would just cooperate and buy from junior's Approved Toy Index, parents wouldn't have to wait on hour-long lines to return gifts that don't meet junior's standards. Only coincidently might Toys "R" Us make money on this deal, since grandpa and Aunt Sally might feel compelled to buy from the place with the list.

The advantages don't stop there.

Just think: No more calls from grandma to discuss what to get the kids for Christmas. These calls always lead to real conversations about what our children's interests are, what they've outgrown and what mom and dad have banned (like TVs in their rooms) despite threats to call the child-abuse hot line. The toy registry gives us much less to talk about with their grandparents, thus saving money on their grandparents' phone bills, which they should spend on more toys.

Consider how much easier this will be for the givers, who won't have to think about what they're buying: "Hey, Geoffrey - give me something off Robert's list for $20, and Stacey's list for $30."

Kids will be spared from receiving gifts that aren't what they want. I still recall the time someone gave me a G.I. Joe I already had. The fools! My parents, unfortunately, reared me to accept gifts graciously, in the spirit in which they are given, as signs of affection and friendship. This has scarred me for life. Every Christmas people hand me gifts not on my wish list. I thank them anyway.

My kids, however, can be different. I picture taking my son to the local Toys "R" Us:

"And how hold is Alec, Mr. Boyle?"

"Eleven months."

"I see you're starting him off early!"

"Absolutely. I want him to know that, by virtue of being a child, he is entitled to get exactly what he wants."

"That's the Christmas spirit!"

"Yes sir. This afternoon I'll teach him to say, `Gee, thanks, but didn't you check the registry?' "

"What's Alec's favorite toy in the whole world?"

"He loves bags."

"Excuse me?" "You know - empty bags. He likes the sound when they crinkle."

"We don't give out empty bags - only bags that are stuffed with things that people have paid for."

"I see. Well, he likes pots and pans."

"Great. We have an expensive - uh, extensive - plastic kitchen set."

"No fake stuff. He likes real pots and pans. He pulls them from the cabinets and bangs them on the floor, after he's done with the bags."

"We don't sell real kitchenware, Mr. Boyle. Is there anything else your son likes?"

"Water."

"Water?"

"You should see him splash in the tub!"

"Do you have any other children?"

My daughter is 11, but I'm afraid she's a lost cause. A few weeks ago, Alyssa opened a conversation by saying, "Dad, I have something to say, but it might sound rude." I told her to say what's on her mind, and I'd take it however she meant it.

She explained that the Christmas wish list she gave us named three CDs. "I'm not saying that I expect you to get me any of them," she said. "But if I was only gonna get one of those, the one I like most is the Aqua CD."

Where did we go wrong?

"Doesn't your daughter see that she's violating the purpose of Christmas, which is to boost the leading economic indicators? If everyone accepted every gift without expectation or judgment, do you realize what that would do to Christmas?"

Maybe there's hope after all.