Would you ever sell your old Beanie Babies? | The Tylt
There was the Gold Rush of 1848, then the Beanie Baby Boom of 1993. The line of plush animals graced the shelves of toy stores nationwide, becoming all the rage throughout the '90s and beyond. But while children saw new friends, parents saw price tags—apparently Beanie Babies were thought to appreciate in value (and there are certain Beanie Babies that now go for super high prices). Some can’t wait to sell them and de-clutter their homes; others keep them for the memories. What will you do?
Would you ever sell your old Beanie Babies?
Has Marie Kondo taught us nothing? According to her website, the tidying extraordinaire recommends “[keeping] only those things which speak to the heart, and discard items that no longer spark joy. Thank them for their service—and let them go.” Are your Beanie Babies still sparking joy, or have they been steadily gathering dust for the past two decades?
You know what does spark joy? Cash. Think about it: Your Beanie Babies want to be loved and your bank account needs some lovin’. Why not sell them to someone who fully intends to appreciate them while you pocket the extra dough? It’s a win-win scenario, not like the whole plot of “Toy Story 2” (or, God forbid, the ending of “Toy Story 3”). Just let them go.
This isn’t to say that all Beanie Babies are worth money. Just some (supposedly). This may be a disappointment to all of you hoarding a bunch of stuffed toys in the hopes they’ll make your student debt disappear, but hey, you’ll still probably get at least 10 bucks for them during your next garage sale!
That doesn’t mean you have to get rid of all your Beanie Babies. Just the valuable ones. Or, like, the ones you kind of don’t really care about anymore. Basically, what we’re really trying to say is, don’t do it, mom.
Much like we were promised that a four-year degree would make us indispensable employees, millennials were made to believe Beanie Babies were stocks in plush form: If we sat on them long enough, their value would increase. Turns out that wasn’t really the case, but whatever—we got a bunch of cuddly, birthday-sharing friends.
Seriously, Beanie Babies were sick. They were just so darn cute, and there were so many to choose from! There was no way you couldn’t find one that best suited you. Christ, even McDonald’s got its own Beanie Baby—there was definitely one out there for you, too.
If you did find one (or 25, since you rarely just got one Beanie Baby), think of all the great times you had together. Think of all the comfort those bean-filled toys afforded you; the happiness their tiny faces inspired. And you’d actually consider selling all that for a few bucks? Okay, Soulless McGee.
Just to reiterate: Don’t do it, mom.