Christmas would still be worth celebrating without kids around – it'd better be, if you're a Christian – but it wouldn't be half the fun. Why else would the toy aisles look like football fields in December as parents block, kick and tackle in the hopes of seeing junior's eyes light up on Christmas morning?
Without kids of my own, I've been spared the bruises my parent friends have incurred racing for the last Snow Glow Elsa on the shelf. But with a 19-month-old grandniece to buy for, I entered toyland this year with the zest and innocence of an amateur. I had no idea what I was in for.
It turns out, the toy I chose for my niece could mark her for life, and not in a good way.
"It's critical to know our children are constantly being bombarded with information full of cultural stereotypes," says University of British Columbia developmental psychologist Andrew Scott Baron. "Within the first two years of life, that can already shape what is expected of them and what careers they decide to pursue."
Toy manufacturers and retailers only reinforce these stereotypes. Indeed, experts say gender segregation in the toy aisle has never been as pronounced. Efforts during the 1970s to move toward more gender-neutral toys and toy marketing have been nearly entirely rolled back as the pink steamroller flattens whatever inclination girls might have to think in other colours.
"A walk down the toy aisle programs eager, impressionable, wide-eyed young consumers to think in gendered ways and gives them answers to things that they have yet to question for themselves," gay father and LGBT activist Rob Watson wrote last year on The Huffington Post.
Look no further than the Disney Princess juggernaut. The media giant's move to package its female fairy-tale characters into a single franchise has revived the princess narrative as the dominant fantasy peddled to young girls. And that was even before Anna and Elsa from the Disney film Frozen, the current category-killing princesses, came along.
Even if these characters have many redeeming qualities, they are still princesses that reinforce stereotypical notions of femininity and beauty. The social penalties faced by girls who resist these notions can be devastating. It's even worse for a boy who fancies an Elsa doll of his own.
Research conducted by Indiana University psychology professor Judith Elaine Blakemore found that toys targeted specifically at girls are associated with "physical attractiveness, nurturing and domestic skill." Toys that are gender-neutral or "moderately masculine" are "more likely to be educational and to develop children's physical, cognitive, artistic and other skills."
Lego used to be a gender-neutral toy until its maker introduced the Lego Friends line in 2012. Predictably pink, the line aimed at girls involves less building and more decorating and visits to the beauty parlour. Science kits aimed at girls are similarly prettied up and dumbed down.
Not surprisingly, the pink push in toy marketing has sparked a backlash. An Australian campaign called No Gender December urges parents to buy gender-neutral toys for their kids and sign a petition saying "There is no place for gender stereotypes under my Christmas tree."
Australian politicians have even gotten in on the debate. "Outdated stereotypes about girls and boys and men and women perpetuate gender inequality, which feeds into very serious problems such as domestic violence and the gender pay gap," said No Gender December backer and Green Party Senator Larissa Waters. Prime Minister Tony Abbott rejected that "politically correct" notion, saying: "Let boys be boys and girls be girls – that's always been my philosophy."
All of this left me facing the suddenly freighted decision of what to buy my grandniece for Christmas. Would I be complicit in condemning her to a pink ghetto of domesticity and support-staff jobs if I bought her a doll? Would I look like the eccentric uncle if I got her a firetruck?
In the end, I decided not to play child psychologist and leave the important decisions to the experts – her parents. That freed me to explore the giddy options without worrying about the long-term consequences on my niece's career path or personal development.
I couldn't afford a pony, much less get one on the GO Train. But I'm hoping she likes my gift anyway, and doesn't hold it against me 20 years from now.
Konrad Yakabuski