An Irishman's Diary

I see this year's cool new toy for children is something called the Bilibo. A piece of moulded plastic that looks vaguely like a tortoise shell, it has won several awards and is predicted to be in big demand come Christmas. But the Swiss manufacturers refuse to be drawn on what exactly it is. That's the whole point. The Bilibo is part of a new generation of playthings that impose no preconceived rules for use.

It is left to the target market - in Bilibo's case children aged two to seven - to "interpret" the object, using nothing but their limitless imaginations.

Parents will be familiar with this general concept. You spend all Christmas morning assembling a large, expensive toy, using instructions that were apparently translated from the original Mandarin by a team of chimpanzees. After hours of frustration, you finally get the damn thing together, apart from the left-over piece that looks very important but didn't fit anywhere. Then you notice that your kids are playing quite happily with the empty box, which - it is already clear - has more entertainment potential than the over-priced junk that came in it.

It's not just empty boxes that have this effect. My older children are at the upper end of the Bilibo demographic, but one of their favourite toys at the moment is a simple, harmless little thing called "the baby". To me, with my limited adult imagination, Daniel is their 14-month-old brother. To them, he is a blank canvas: a resource they can draw on - literally - when they run out of art paper. They don't draw on him that often, it must be said. But that's only because painting him is more fun.

There are technical challenges, yet the possibilities are endless, especially since, being still mostly bald, even his head is open to "interpretation". Today, he might acquire a Mohican hairstyle. Tomorrow, it could be war-paint. One day, he looked like a junior member of a hitherto unknown Amazon tribe who had been prepared for an initiation ceremony. Only the loincloth - a Pampers nappy - hinted at Western civilisation.

At times like this, I sigh and say: "Ah kids, don't be painting the baby". But I have mixed feelings about it. After all, Daniel's surfaces are fully washable and won't fade, which can't be said for some of the other things they use. Once upon a time, our living-room had white walls. This was part of a doomed minimalist vision in which the house would be uncluttered, full of nothing but clean lines and natural light, just like in the magazines. It was my vision: in common with many women, my wife's vision tended more towards the maximalist end of the spectrum. She would have preferred to paint the walls a "warmer" colour.

Then we had children, which is something not really recommended by interior designers. To the children, the white walls were just an art project that hadn't happened yet. They couldn't see the clean lines of which I spoke, so they supplied lines of their own, followed by circles, hand-prints, crude human figures, and so on. Their mother always denied being part of this creative conspiracy, although I had my doubts. At any rate, there came a day when I was forced to concede defeat on behalf of minimalism. The walls are painted a warmer colour now.

So I can see where they're coming from with the Bilibo. Available in everything except white, it is nonetheless a blank canvas. You can sit it in or stand on it. You can fill it with sand or water. It can be a boat or a sledge; a pond or an island.

Children can interpret it as everything from a potty to a hat (not in the same play session, you hope). Crucially, it looks a bit like an outsized Star Wars helmet, which should appeal to those kids - not mentioning any gender in particular - who will be searching for violent applications.

Many toys justify their complexity and prices with claims about how they will help cultivate children's motor skills, or language skills, or social development. The truth is you can often achieve the same effect with simple, everyday objects that cost nothing and don't overwhelm their imaginations. Give them a set of clothes pegs, for example, and they will soon devise a game to match.

OK, they will then leave the clothes pegs lying around in unexpected places, such as the landing outside your bedroom, where you will step on them during the night with your bare feet. This may have the effect of developing your motor and language skills too. But the main thing is that you're leaving space for your child's imagination to develop. If that is your priority, the Bilibo is the perfect toy. Then again, if you want to save €24, a plastic bucket would probably do just as well.