I don’t drink, but I now see why other parents do.
I seriously considered knocking back a few stiff libations after spending countless hours (see: THREE SOLID WEEKS) trying to get my hands on a Zhu Zhu Pet.
A Zhu who?
If you have a young child at home, then I don’t have to explain, but for the rest of you moms and dads, who haven’t been sucked into Zhu Zhu hell, allow me to elaborate.
Zhu Zhu Pets are the hottest toys since Tickle Me Elmo, Cabbage Patch Kids, the Tamagotchi “digital pet,” Furby, and every other must-have plastic plaything that a kid will brush his teeth, clean his room and eat his all vegetables for today, and forget about next month.
Actually, at this point, I would say that the battery-powered toy hamsters on wheels might be bigger than all of the aforementioned entries into the Toy Hall of Fame combined.
Unlike real hamsters, Zhu Zhus don’t eat, poop, or require a wood chip bed. Unfortunately, unlike real hamsters, who can breed on their own, Zhu Zhus are made by a company that was obviously not prepared to handle an influx of warring parents, who will stop at nothing to get their kids a bunch of mechanical rodents.
The robotic animals sell for about $8 to $10. However, part of the Zhu Zhu “fun” is collecting the pieces to the entire plastic Zhu Zhu world, including the Hamster Car and Garage, Hamster Wheel and Tunnel, Skateboard & U-Turn Ramp, Surfboard & Sleep Dome, Spiral Slide & Ramp, Go Go Adventure ball, Hamster Carrier & Blanket and Hamster Bed & Blanket… yes, the entire Zhuniverse is for sale—-somewhere.
Somewhere… as in not Wisconsin. Or anywhere in the Midwest portion of the United States. I know this because I have added at least 15 years to my life trying to find one of these precious quasi-pets for my equally darling (albeit spoiled) daughter.
It all started out so innocently. My 5-year-old spotted the little beasts on TV and when it was time to redeem her chore chart reward, she requested a Zhu Zhu.
No problem, right?
Wrong!
I should have known obtaining a Zhu Zhu was going to be challenging when I saw empty shelves at our local Toys R Us store with a HUGE sign stating: “ONLY ONE ZHU ZHU PET PER CUSTOMER PER DAY!”
Things got real bad when I headed to Wal-Mart and discovered a similar sign hanging in their toy department.
At that point I inquired about the missing Zhu Zhus, and was told that corporate had mandated that the signs go up after learning that people were buying the make-believe pets for eight bucks at Wal-Mart and reselling them for $20 on eBay.
Apparently my song of woe is being sung by millions of other parents around the country.
“As soon as we’re getting them in, they’re literally selling from boxes,” Laura Phillips, vice president of toys at Wal-Mart, told the AP. “It’s hard to keep them on shelves.”
What is driving this plastic hamster craze? Is it a fear of owning real rodents?
I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. I finally managed to get my hands on Mr. Squiggles for my daughter (never mind that she wanted Chunk, Flopsie, Num Nums and Pipsqueak too), though I hesitate to reveal how I achieved the impossible. Let’s just say timing is everything.
In case you are still hunting for Zhu Zhus, the official stores that carry the fake pets include Wal-Mart, Toys R Us, Target, Meijers, Hallmark Gift Stores, Palmida, Shopko, Duck Wall and Fred Meyer. However, none of them seem to be able to keep the furry toys in stock.
If you’ve been driven to drink because of poor planning by Cepia Inc., please feel free share your Zhu Zhu hunting horror stories here. You will be assured of my sympathies. Likewise, if you live in a state where Zhu Zhus are readily available, be sure to share that info as well, and you will be assured of my presence in your hometown before Christmas.
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