I admit it. I am thoroughly creeped out by my nephew’s toy
tractor. On the surface it gives all the implications of being one of those
nice farm-like cutesy things with a spot behind the driver’s wheel for a
barrel-shaped armless farmer to sit (if that isn’t scary enough it gets worse).
The tractor is a decent facsimile of its John Deere real life counterpart. It
has two enormous plastic tires in the rear and two normal sized tires in the
front. It’s green with yellow seats and a blue steering wheel with a hitch for
the trailer at the back.
The trailer is just the beginning of that slippery slope
that takes us from normality to an entirely uncomfortable realm of the
unnatural. The colors, though not usual, are at least in keeping with the
cheery scheme of the tractor. The bed is a sunny yellow and the rails and sides
are a nice primary blue. And then the tires are green. And the trailer only has
two rails: one in the front, nearest the end where the trailer connects to the
tractor, and one in the rear. Apparently you don’t have to worry about your
animals falling out the sides and here’s why!
Your animals fit into pre-cut holes in the trailer bed.
Common sensely enough, the trailer makers cut square holes for all four of your
cloven-hooved beasts: a pig, a cow, a horse, and a sheep – all of which are
exactly the same size.
Please appreciate the size issue for a moment.
Now in case the child playing with this toy has never heard
the sound of a tractor before, the set comes with a key ring carrying four keys
which collectively are so large they dwarf your four animals. Each key is a
different color and ends in varying simple images which in turn correspond to
“keyholes” on the sides of the tractor. By turning one of the keys in its
matching keyholes one activates a noise box inside the tractor that makes the
sound of a starting engine.
Don’t worry. That in and of itself does not creep me out.
After the tractor starts and the engine is running for a while, a voice kicks
in and issues various prompts. Following the directions will in turn provide
various farm animal noises to match your disproportionate livestock.
Now, about the voice. I don’t know what the toy makers were
going for but what comes out is a masculinized five-year-old girl with an
almost gravelly high pitch back-of-the-throat rasp. It’s the voice I’m sure
Cruella DeVil had as a young child. This is the voice the makers felt
appropriate to put in a product designed for infants and toddlers.
Furthermore, the tractor knows when you’re not playing with
it, and it doesn’t like that. If the tractor hasn’t been played with for some
undetermined length of time, this voice will, without warning, echo from
between the tires and say, “Hello, little farmer.” If you continue to ignore
it, it greets you again. “Hello, little famer.” Only this time I know I can
hear that possessed thing cackling at the end. Every single time I rush to turn
it off but even several seconds after the switch on the bottom is firmly in the
“Off” position, the tractor has to have the last word. “Goodbye, little
farmer.” I always expect it to follow up with, “I’m going to kill you.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
I kid you not, I’ve had nightmares about that thing. But my
nephew insists on playing with it every time he’s over (the thing is kept at my
parents’ house). Fortunately, he’s too young to understand the concept of
battery-powered toys. I told him yesterday that the voice went on holiday and
won’t be back for a while. He accepted the idea readily, and I went into the
other room.
I settled down to read when suddenly out of the next room
came my nephew’s pitch perfect imitation. “Hello, little farmer . . .”
