Between animated movies and reality television shows, separation anxieties are here to stay.

Toy Story 3 brought children and adults to tears, as college-bound Andy was forced to part with his playthings, while Hoarders: Buried Alive follows the obsessive behaviors of people who “house” excessive quantities of items to which they have unnatural connections.  If holding onto the past isn’t crippling enough, deciding what to keep and what to toss brings girls and boys (of all ages) to the edge of mental collapse, fueled by the crushing weight of guilt and Beanie Babies.

If producers from A&E and Disney want to join forces to create a new show, such as “Toddler Hoarders (Part One of Three)”,  I think I have the perfect child to star in their first episode.

My 4-year-old daughter, Maryn, is one of the most loving children you will ever meet,  to the point that she saves everything.  Stringy cheese wrapper? Better save it…there’s a smiling cow in the logo.  Half-eaten peanut butter sandwich? Better hang on to that…Woody and Buzz Lightyear are watching from the Sara Lee bread bag.  Broken Ken doll?  Better hide him under the couch so he can rest his shattered hip.

With all due respect to Disney and Arts & Entertainment (and TLC and Nick Jr., and…), the children’s literature world is just as guilty.  After reading The Velveteen Rabbit, my older daughter, Ava, cried for two days.  Why is the rabbit in a trash bag? The parents are going to burn all of  the little boy’s toys because they’re covered in germs that could kill him!

Corduroy the bear walked and talked after the toy store closed each evening, and what was his problem? No one wanted to buy him because he had a button missing from his overalls.   Alexander and the Wind Up Mouse was equally distressing, as a furry gray rodent wished his mechanical counterpart real so it could scurry out of a box of toys sentenced to the trash can.   Commercials are getting into the act, too.  A pediatric cough syrup advertisement features stuffed animals and dolls sitting around a table, fretting that “she’s not coming today because she has a fever”.

While ibuprofen and acetaminophen tend to wipe out a pesky temperature, what’s the remedy for eliminating an alarming number of toys?

If you’ve tried to smuggle them out of the house lately, you’ve probably had to smuggle them back in after being turned away from thrift stores and preschools.   Hard toys may be painted with harmful chemicals or contain parts that pose choking hazards, and plush toys can’t be cleaned effectively to kill dust mites or… lice.

The short answer is to stop buying toys and dolls altogether, but that’s not what manufacturers want to see or hear.  As the consumer, we’re supposed to keep accumulating, keep ordering, keep collecting, keep spending.   As the child, we’re supposed to learn to let go.  Have you ever noticed that Disney usually kills a parent in the first few minutes of a movie?  Even Huey, Duey, and Louie were raised by Uncle Scrooge!  It seems as though the creative goal is to make children face up to their fears of being left alone or left behind, and to muster the superhuman strength to overcome the odds through a 60 minute bout of courage.

And after the movie ends, we’ll feel compelled to shop for a plastic action figure or fluffy stuffed version of our new hero, which will help keep the memory alive (and with us) forever.