If I had any business sense, I would open a toy shop. Every nurs-
ery is filled with toys that are broken and neglected. Every mid-
dle-class child gets far too many toys. In fact, most toys that cost
more than a few cents are wasted.

Once Zoë received a gift from an old pupil of a wonderful
walking and talking doll. It was obviously an expensive toy.
About the same time, a new pupil gave Zoë a small cheap rab-
bit. She played with the big expensive doll for half an hour, but
she played with the cheap little rabbit for weeks. In fact, she
took the rabbit to bed with her each night.

Of all her toys, the only one that Zoë retained a liking for was
Betsy Wetsy, a self-wetting doll I bought for her when she was
eighteen months old. The wetting arrangement did not interest
her one bit; perhaps because it was a puritanical fake, its "wee-
wee hole" having been placed in the small of the back. Only
when she reached four and a half did Zoë say one morning,
"I'm tired of Betsy Wetsy and want to give her away."

Some years ago, I tried out a questionnaire on older children.
"When do you get most annoyed with your little brother or sis-
ter?" In practically every case, the answer was the same, "When
he breaks my toys."

One should never show a child how a toy works. Indeed, one
should never help a child in any way until or unless he is not
capable of solving a problem for himself.

Self-regulated children seem content to amuse themselves for
long periods with their toys and games. They do not smash
them about as molded children so often do.

There is no reason why a baby in a private home or a fairly

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