October 4, 2006
Build-a-Bear
Rookie No More

Build A Bear? Who knew?  Not this grandpa.  It’s the smoothest marketing idea designed to separate geezers from their greenbacks since Starbucks.  Or bottled water. 

A couple of weeks back a Denver daughter and her husband changed houses.  Since moving ranks on the fun scale somewhere between root canals and kidney stones, the grandma I hang with decided she could help by heading over the hill and tending to the movers offspring, granddaughter tricycle jockeys, ages one and three. 

Knowing where my bread is buttered, the lasagna layered and the salmon sautéed, I followed along.  A total lack of culinary skills dictates where grandma goes grandpa isn’t far behind. 

The girl’s behavior bordered on angelic.  On a goodness scale from one to ten they were an eleven.  Grandma thought such deportment deserved a reward and mentioned the Build A Bear workshop in Littleton’s Aspen Grove Shopping Center.  Grandpa, totally ignorant of any reward not including ice cream, agreed.  

The four of us wandered into Build-A-Bear with the wide-eyed look of confusion.  Quickly we were greeted by a most pleasant young lady who walked us through the Build A Bear drill.  Along one wall was a huge assortment of stuffed animals, not just bears but also doggies, kitties, monkeys and snow leopards.  

We were to stroll along the critter display until the three year old and her one-year-old sister picked out the stuffed animal they “loved the most”.  This area should have been named the runaway inflation wall because as we moved down the line, the critters became cuddlier as the prices escalated, a fact noted by no one except grandpa.  With grandsquirts the  selection process was anything but quick.  By the time the three year old opted for a mid range priced kitty, the one year old had narrowed her choice to every animal on display.  Grandma best handled the concept of “choose one” since the grandpa explanation of “Hey, only one!” brought a teary reaction.  Finally, she opted for a “puppy”.  Not that you choose a “stuffed” animal, those are for display purposes only.  The girls were to pick a ”skin” of their favorite animal and then proceed to the stuffing station.  Well, that’s the grandpa version.  The Build-a-Bear folks call it bringing your special animal to life. To do that, the granddaughters were instructed to pick a red heart from a selection provided, kiss the heart and then place it inside their choice.  Once that was accomplished, the granddaughters were instructed to make a wish and watch their animal come to life, i.e. get stuffed.  This is where grandpa asked if he could go next door to Starbucks before he gagged but the stare from grandma said stay right here you emotionless dolt.  And then the animal was stuffed before their very eyes.  Done. Outta here. Right?  Not on your life.

Because between stuffing the critter and the checkout counter is the clothing section.  And hats.  And shoes.  Everything for your special animal, including a stroller.  By the time we were out the door grandpa had leverged the Visa for over a hundred bucks.  

Grandma told me not to grump about money.  All I had to do was skip latte’s for a month and it would be back to even.  The one and three year old weren’t listening.  They were cuddling their critters as we drove home.  And I was patting myself on the back for being such a good grandpa.