Adult Money, Inner Child Problems: Why I Have a Shelf That Looks Like a 2004 Dream in My Living Room

Tiny Protectors Maple Plush

There is nothing more comforting than realizing I am not the only adult still buying toys. I don't entirely know why I do this—and maybe the other adults doing it don't either—but there's something reassuring about knowing I'm not alone.

On the 6th, I patiently waited through a countdown for a restock of Bratziez (that sounds fucking insane when I see it typed out).

Am feeding my inner child? Do we ever actually grow out of the things we loved as children? Or am I just standing in awe of the early 2000's nostalgia, neatly arranged on a shelf in my living room?

Oddly enough, I wasn't deprived of toys as a kid—quite the opposite. My parents and family absolutely showered me in them. I had a Bratz Ski Lodge, Barbie's airplane, Barbie's pink convertible, My Scene dolls, two of my own American Girl Dolls, Polly Pockets, Sweet Streets (iykyk), Strawberry Shortcake and her giant Strawberry House that opened up, a Pop Sensation Barbie doll, a Barbie with a light up mermaid tail, Care Bears, Hello Kitty, and every Disney princess thing imaginable. I was spoiled in a glitter flood of capitalism.

Pop Sensation Barbie (2002)

I love seeing other adults buy similar things too—especially when they're using their adult money to give their inner child what they never got. For that, I stand beside them. (I say this while staring at my Grumpy Care Bear, sitting next to my Jellycat Crossiant, and holding a weighted heating/cooling bunny plush on my chest).

Jellycat Crossiant

A few years ago, a friend casually told me they were buying the JimmyPaul x Bratz lesbian couple released for Pride. We both stared at the price, agreed it was insane, and still pulled out our cards without hesitation. Something about that moment cracked me open. It felt like permission—to enjoy something I didn't even realize I wanted to entertain.

Bratz x Jimmy Paul (2022)

Soon after came mini things (which I adore), then mini Bratz blind boxes. Seeing Bratz dolls I loved as a kid returned in tiny form was oddly emotional, like bumping into an old friend who hadn't aged a day.

A partner later introduced me to Yummiland lip gloss dolls, and I promptly lost my mind. Makeup, a craft, and a cute little doll? Say less. I bought far too many and regret nothing.

Yummiland Lipgloss

Then there were Pop Mart's Crybabies. I randomly stumbled upon them, ordered a Sad Club box, and honestly—it might be the coolest little thing I own. Every time I look at it, my heart kind of explodes. I even grabbed a few Valentine's-themed Crybabies last year because apparently I have no impulse control and a very soft heart.

Pop Mart Crybaby: Sad Club (2024)

For a while, Bratz themselves didn't really pull me back in with their return. The collabs were cool—Mean Girls x Bratz was chef's kiss—but nothing truly got me. Without a Sasha x Hello Kitty doll, I was completely disinterested. A few childhood favorites reappeared, like Bratz Play Sportz Yasmin Fashion Doll - Gymnastics.

Then they dropped the Bratz x Clueless collab.

I couldn't get Dionne fast enough. Seeing her in that iconic plaid set, the hat, the oversized black phone—it hit me straight in the chest. Nostalgia has a way of tugging at my heart strings.

Bratz x Clueless (2025)

Now I have two shelves of what I lovingly refer to as my silly little nonsense toys. They sit there, still in their boxes, quietly reminding me of how simple life once felt—or how simple it could still be. I draw inspiration from them for my outfits, my creativity, and honestly, my softness.

But maybe buying toys as an adult isn't about regression at all. Maybe it's about remembering who you were before the world told you to be practical.

When did joy become something we felt the need to justify? If healing your inner child fits neatly on a shelf, is it really so childish after all?