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Illustration by Drew Shannon
I’m at a stage in motherhood where I enjoy taking my daughter to birthday parties – of which, in senior kindergarten, there are plenty. Some months, she’s invited to parties three weekends in a row. I love watching her chat with classmates, wolf down cake and run around in excitement from a sugar rush. But then comes the dreaded end of the celebration: the drawn-out goodbyes and, worst of all, the loot bags.
I despise loot bags, but my daughter does not. Her eyes glitter with excitement as she patiently waits in line to receive her small bag of surprises before we leave. Those tiny bags filled with even tinier plastic trinkets stress me out: the Dollar Store-style contents, including plastic balls, slap bracelets, tiny figurines and packages of pencils, erasers and crayons. The toys bring momentary joy but are usually forgotten within minutes, maybe they garner enough attention to last through the car ride home, if we’re lucky.
Those loot bags trigger my eco-anxiety, which I’ve struggled with since the 1980s. I vividly remember my Grade 2 play where students were essentially teaching their parents how to recycle. Our class stood on that stage, proud as can be, holding big statement signs and screeching, “REDUCE, REUSE, RECYCLE!”
It seemed so simple back then: don’t buy so much, use what you already have, and recycle plastic and paper. I understood and embraced these concepts as a child. Yet, it isn’t that easy where I live. According to the non-profit advocacy group Environmental Defence, less than seven per cent of Ontario’s waste is recycled through the Blue Box program with Ontario sending over eight-million tonnes of trash to landfill and incinerators every year. We were sold a lie about recycling, and even though I understand this, I still find myself rinsing out containers and separating recyclables in hopes of making a difference.
What I didn’t anticipate was how my eco-anxiety would intensify when I became a parent. I had no idea my home would become overrun with plastic toys. Besides the discarded loot bag items are other plastic bits and pieces built for Barbie or super hero characters. This impossibly small plastic scrunchy belongs to which doll? What about this spoon the size of my pinkie fingernail? Is this miniature ball designed to be lost immediately, if not sooner? Who thought this wee puzzle would be fun with an already cracked screen. It’s all just waiting to be thrown in the trash.
When it came time for my daughter’s fifth birthday party, I had an idea that would alleviate some of this small plastic stress. I asked her to decorate a cardboard box like a treasure chest. She had fun painting it, adding decorations and wrote her name in that oh-so-sweet kindergarten handwriting below the words: TREASURE CHEST! Afterward, we strolled around our house gathering small items that she had been gifted but never (or rarely) played with. We filled that treasure chest to the brim. I was surprised (yet not surprised) by how many items we collected. On the day of her party, we placed the box on our front lawn and encouraged her guests to take an item or two. It felt good to do something about my eco-anxiety instead of just fretting about it. And I was thrilled to see those tiny plastic things leave our home once and for all, or at least until the next party.
What if parents could all agree that loot bags are unnecessary and teach our children that the party itself is the gift? A party is about celebrating love, food, and friendship – Children don’t need a cheap thrill to end an event.
And this goes for adults, too. How can we balance the need for marketing while respecting our environment? At work conferences, I always wonder what happens to the logoed mugs, pens, thermoses, T-shirts, lanyards, stickers, binders, oh the list goes on and on and on. With our world facing grave climate issues and environmental destruction, perhaps this small change of saying “no” to crappy trinkets could have a big impact on our planet, our mental health and illustrate the importance of reusing and sharing what we already own.
I hope my daughter’s generation treats the planet better than generations past. I hope she and her peers yell louder and demand a transformation of culture.
Maybe I can start by teaching her that loot bags aren’t necessary or talk about changing what’s inside them with other parents. I would love for her to receive a paper bag with a used book or toy or something healthy to eat.
Perhaps this one small gesture will allow children to make better choices as they grow up in a disposable nation.
Ariel Ng Bourbonnais lives in Oakville, Ont.