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They want toys to get their children into Harvard.

Have we been getting playthings all wrong?

By Alex Blaisdell.

The Week My Elder Son finished nursery.

I decided to clear out the playroom where he'd spent much of his young life forming bonds with inanimate objects.

Toys had kept him company whenever other duties or distractions had occupied his mother and me.

And over the years, we had amassed a truly crass number of them.

As I sifted through pile after pile, I felt as though I was in the pit of an immense archaeological dig.

I'd not considered us to be particularly pushy or indulgent parents.

Mostly, I wanted my children to grow up to be financially independent and live lives of nothing worse than common unhappiness.

...