“I had 28 Gogo’s, and now I don’t have any,” my daughter, Annabelle cried. Daddy took the tiny toys away after she smacked her brother in the face over the pink one. She had her reasons. My son had been stashing both of his sisters’ Gogo’s in the dollhouse in his bedroom. Daddy confiscated his miniature action figures, too.
My oldest daughter still possessed hers, and she taunted, “Nanna-nanna boo-boo,” while the others wailed.
“Stop buying them these things,” my husband whispered to me as he hid two fistfuls of Gogo’s high on a shelf behind his Maker’s Mark. It was true; I was to blame. I shopped three toy stores before I found Gogo’s in stock, so I bought 72. All of them could fit on my laptop, so they don’t take up much toy room real estate, and they only cost $5.99 per six pack. I thought my children would love this fad as much as I loved Garbage Pail Kids cards in 1985. And they did, as long as I defined “love” as hoarding, not sharing and lots of shoving.
Gogo’s are perky, multi-colored half-ninja, half-kewpie-doll characters with names like Hazard, Molly and Awa-Shima. Some have helmets, others have kitten ears and a few have mismatched eyeballs–each one supposedly has a supernatural ability but I’ve only seen them sit there. The official website claims Gogo’s were inspired by ancient Greek toys–sheep knuckles–that kids used to flick around like marbles or jacks. My kids hurl them at each other, the wall or the dog. They play GoGo hide and seek, and they trade them on the school bus with a boy named Reese.
My husband couldn’t take it. Our children were swapping them, then wanting theirs back, then dropping them in the toilet. When the punching started, he gathered all the Gogo’s during a group temper tantrum. Once the initial shock passed, everyone settled back into their mundane I-want-the-biggest-cookie grappling.
If, after hearing my story, you still want Gogo’s, you should call around first. Aunt Jean’s Toys and Treats only had the expensive Pokemon editions, and The Learning Express on Valley Road in Montclair was fresh out, too. Both stores told me they’ll get more in soon. I bought ours at Toys ‘R Us on Route 10 in East Hanover.
Today, I asked Annabelle if she wanted hers back, and she said no, “I like it better when we don’t act coo-coo.” I totally agree.