The "Buying Love with Stuff" Trap

dr. Kristijan Musek Lešnik
Oct 15, 2025
3 min read

Joy from stuff is like a sugar rush. It spikes fast... and crashes just as quickly. That toy that felt like the pinnacle of happiness on Saturday morning is abandoned under the couch by Tuesday.

... So you buy again.

“Memories outlast toys. It's as simple as that.”

Kids love stuff. Parents love seeing kids love stuff. Enter: the seductive loop where “buying” starts to feel like “parenting.” But when toys, gadgets, and Amazon boxes start piling higher than your actual connection, something gets lost. This chapter explores how the “stuff = love” trap happens, why it’s so tempting, how it changes kids’ expectations, and most importantly, how to step off the treadmill and rediscover what lasts longer than two AA batteries.

Mistake: Substituting gifts for genuine connection.

THE ISSUE

Few highs beat handing your kid a gift. Their eyes widen, they squeal, they do that happy-dance that looks like electrocution. It’s pure magic — and addictive for parents.

So we keep going: missed the soccer game? LEGO set. Worked late? Plushie. Felt guilty for yelling? Add-to-cart therapy.

The problem? Stuff becomes shorthand for love. And when every “I care” comes wrapped in plastic, kids start confusing affection with accumulation.

WHY PARENTS DO THIS

We shower children with toys because of:

Guilt relief. Buying something feels like an instant apology.
Celebration shortcut. No time for pancakes? Here’s a toy.
Marketing pressure. Every ad screams: Good parents buy this.
Avoiding conflict. $4 toy car > 20 minutes of grocery store tantrum.
That glow. Their joy makes us feel like we’re doing it right.

Totally understandable. But also… unsustainable.

HOW THIS HARMS KIDS (AND PARENTS)

"Just buy more toys" parenting strategy backfires in many ways:

Love = stuff. Kids start thinking affection has a price tag.
Entitlement grows. Regular gifts stop being special — they’re expected.
Appreciation dulls. Excitement fades within days.
Emotional avoidance. Stuff becomes a stand-in for apologies or presence.
Short-term highs only. Toys spike dopamine, but happiness crashes fast.

Subtle danger: Kids raised this way may struggle later to recognize love in non-material forms like presence, listening, or trust.

AVOIDING THE TRAP

You don’t have to ban gifts. Just rebalance them with affection and connection:

Audit Your Giving. Look at the last month: how many “just because” buys were about guilt or convenience? Awareness is the first reality check.
Swap Stuff for Experiences. A picnic, baking cookies, or a blanket fort creates longer joy than another toy car. Bonus: no storage bins required.
Make Gifts Carry Stories. Choose things that connect to time together: a ball to play with, a book you loved, a craft kit for a shared project.
Offer Presence First. Before you click “buy now,” ask: “Would my attention mean more right now?” Often, the answer is yes.
Teach Gratitude. Talk about where things come from and why they matter. Gratitude has to be taught — it doesn’t just appear.
Keep Gifts Special. Frame them as treats for birthdays, milestones, or holidays — not everyday bribery. Scarcity makes them sweeter.
Model Non-Material Love. Show love in ways kids can copy: hugs, silly notes, pancake rituals, Saturday walks. Affection doesn’t always need a barcode.

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Buying instead of apologizing.
Tossing gifts to stop tantrums.
Giving so often that “special” becomes normal.
Measuring parenting success in shopping bags.

THE PAYOFF

When you stop buying love with stuff, you leave room for what lasts:

For kids: Love feels secure, not transactional. They learn joy from experiences, gratitude for what they have, and the value of presence.
For parents: Less pressure, less clutter, and more confidence that your connection doesn’t depend on the next toy drop.

Years from now they won’t remember the random checkout toy. They’ll remember the fort you built together, the walk in the rain, the night you actually listened.

Because the love that can’t be bought? That’s the kind that sticks.