The Silly Little Things That Heal Us

I’m in my 30s. I’m a mom of two. I’ve got responsibilities, routines, real-life stressors.
And yet—Labubu has me in a chokehold.

If you know, you know. These gremlin-faced vinyl toys are weirdly adorable, painfully limited, and practically impossible to snag unless you’ve got lightning-fast fingers or a connection in retail. I’ve spent hours refreshing drop pages. A full day in the city comparing prices. I’m both embarrassed and delighted to say: I’m obsessed.

But here’s the thing—this isn’t just about a toy.

It’s about scratching an itch I didn’t realize I still had.
I missed out on the Cabbage Patch craze—too young. Ninja Turtles? Too girly. Beanie Babies? I caught the tail end, never the thrill of the peak.

But Furby? That ugly little gremlin? I wanted it. So badly.
I asked for one for Christmas. Didn’t get it.
But my younger sister did.

Same thing with the iDog. And that cartwheeling doll.
It’s not that my parents didn’t care—I had gifts, I had fun—but the thing everyone wanted always seemed to go to someone else. Usually my younger sister.

And now here I am, 36, hunting toys. Because little me still remembers that sting. And adult me finally has some say in the matter.

My husband—bless him—is very good at indulging my inner child.
After a friendship fallout left me feeling raw and rejected, we found a Labubu—and he bought it.
Then he helped me hunt down more.

Because if a silly little toy makes me happy—makes little me happy—he’s all for it.

And that’s what this is really about, isn’t it?

Healing the parts of us that were left out.
Indulging the weird, joyful obsessions that make us feel alive again.
Finding belonging in the strangest corners of the internet—among grown adults also spending too much money on toys and calling it therapy.

So if you’re out there collecting tiny dolls, chasing concert tickets, or finally buying the Lisa Frank folder your mom wouldn’t let you get—this is your reminder:

It’s not silly.
It’s sacred.

You’re allowed to find joy in the things you once had to go without.
You’re allowed to play again.

And if anyone calls it childish? Good.
That’s the point.

Talk soon,
Tara
CEO of Chaos & Co.