Or, want you dead.
But let’s focus first on the positive.
There are merits you fidget spinners possess that prevent me from wanting to smash your whirring little faces into smithereens beneath my sensible flats.
For those who haven’t encountered you yet (are there those that have encountered these in your homes?!), I believe they should consider themselves either insanely lucky or somewhat unfortunate.
Depending on the day, it’s hard for me to decide which.
For myself, as mother to a child with a diagnosed anxiety disorder, you truly waffle between being a God send and nightmare.
I can easily admit your existence is warranted, even genius perhaps.
We’ve explored countless options to help him cope with anxiety in the past -stress balls, marbles in mesh, Velcro attached beneath his desk, a whole list of things that never really alleviated the issue in a way that made them permanent.
None of them were widely enjoyed and often, in an effort to hide his difference from his peers, he worked to hide your less popular counterparts making them somewhat inaccessible at the most important times.
But you, fidget spinners, you’re different!
Dear Fidget Spinners, I Think I Love You
Every child embraces you, and by embraces I mean is obsessed with possessing you -possibly in multiples.
They happily carry you from place to place, eager to show others your particular design. Having one has become a status symbol, and having many has become an achievement.
A child, such as mine, who actually needs you, doesn’t have a reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed. Spinning you at his desk doesn’t cause him to draw curious glances or prying questions from his classmates.
And, because our school is kind and understanding, they haven’t found the need to ban them or make them a thing you can only carry openly if you’re “different”, he can officially use you to alleviate his anxiety without shame or fear of ridicule.
So all of the hearty eyes for you, Fidget Spinner.
You have created a new level of mom stress I previously avoided in my life at all costs.
We never were super big on lovies. He has one, but he didn’t develop an affinity for it until later in life and he has never had to carry it from place to place.
We didn’t even do pacifiers with our kids so they haven’t been attached to things in that way.
I never had to tear through my house in search of one of their items or order multiples for fear of leaving one on the bus.
Never mind I don’t ride the bus.
It couldn’t happen.
Because attachments to inanimate objects didn’t exist.
And don’t even get me started on the fresh level of horror we experience in this house when one of you goes mysteriously missing.
There is sobbing, and accusation, and frantic tearing up of rooms to find you as you can not be lived without and replacing you has proved nearly impossible.
I’ve considered tying yarn to you and threading it through his jacket, like our parents used to do with our mittens, to prevent him from losing you ever again.
I’m sure that would make you harder to spin, but really all I need is for you to be impossible to lose.
How he spins you is on him.
The hours I have spent consoling someone over an unlocatable fidget spinner probably amount to the time I previously spent consoling a child suffering from a bout of anxiety.
And that’s after I was able to acquire you in the first place.
I can’t even count on two hands how many times I have been evil eyed by 7-11 clerks who probably have my photo taped to the wall in the back as a person to whom service should be denied.
Or, how many times the lady at 5 Below has rolled her eyes when I popped my head in to see if she had received a shipment.
Because Amazon has repeatedly failed me in this regard.
Sure, they have fidget spinners listed on their site marked Prime and ready to ship. Only they’re $100. Or not available until June 2018.
On the bright side, you’re super affordable when I can actually find you for purchase so I can buy you in bulk (or I used to be able to until stores started limiting purchases to 2) and save you up for these moments of relative insanity.
And despite all of this, I desperately wish I had invented you.
Then I’d be rich, my kid would have aplenty, and I wouldn’t be not banned from all of the 7-11s in my county, or stalking 5 Below.
Want to read more about our anxiety disorder? Check out this post: This Is What Our OCD Looks Like