Our kids life the high life; I mean, seriously. They have lux Britax car seats that any grown person would envy. Plush, padded seats, high backs for quick naps or just relaxing, adjustable seatbelts for comfort and padded arm rests and snacks on the side should they become peckish. I think all they need are magic fingers — the 21st century version that is, not the cheapy quarter-fed hotel cliché.

Even the commercials talk on and on about how “it’s good to be a kid.” Indeed. At least if you can afford it. My husband’s and my memories growing up draw parallels with playing with sticks, using found objects and fantasizing that they were real, molded toys from the toy factory, getting the occasional meal out — at a coffee shop or other reasonably priced venue, of course, and maybe, just maybe, getting the toy we always wished for for the holidays.

If you could see our kids’ play area, formerly known as the living room, it would become all too clear. Against one wall is a play molded kitchen, a canvas bookcase with drawers, and a big blue tub filled with dress-up clothes. Along the fireplace step is all manner of rescue vehicles, balls, blocks, buses, colorful, plastic bowling pins, and even a drum that plays music when you slap it. On the other wall adjacent to the TV is a leather cube table with play vegetables, bread, and other sliceable items (think Velcro) as well as a giant school bus that can be towed around. It carries an enormity of Lego and other types of blocks.

Each time I would upload pictures to our family blog, we inevitably got comments and cracks about how many toys were pictured in the background. There were so many that we had to remove the coffee table and sometimes we couldn’t even find room on the couch to sit and watch the news after the kids went to bed. Storing or giving some away hardly seemed to have an effect.

Even luckier, my husband and I have busy, but flexible schedules, so our kids only go to preschool three days a week. The other days are for leisurely walks, bike riding, going out for a meal, jumping at PB&J’s, or running amok in our backyard — also filled with toys.

Somewhere along the line I found an outdoor, weatherproof carpet which covers a large rectangle of the terra cotta tiles we have in our outdoor patio. On that rug sits a mini-slide, tree house with periscope type structure and a seesaw. Scattered about the patio are various vehicles including tricycles, big trucks for aggressively pushing and running with, a play golf club set, ride-on bouncer balls, and more blocks. Oh, I did I mention the water/sand table and the sandbox and swing out in the grassy area?

We would have loved to have the things our kids do and to have had the carefree childhood discoveries that they do, but we’re certainly happy that we can provide it for them — with limits — or not? Oh sure, we have stopped the heavy influx of toys that used to occur, but some days we see something we really really (no really!) want them to have and experience. Take the globe, for example. Our son kept asking where China was after I explained where the sun went to after our part of the world became dark. Sure enough there was a toddler globe with cool pictures and landmarks on it.

As for food, my cooking is decent, but my husband’s is fantastic; trouble is, while our son will experiment with different foods, our daughter is tightly bound to Annie’s Mac ‘N Cheese or cheese pizza, thank you very much. This is a far cry from our memories. If we didn’t eat what was put out for meals, then a sibling would likely snag it. Our parents didn’t ask what we wanted; they just served it and expected us to eat it, and for the most part we did, dried-out meat and all.

I’m not saying our kids do not deserve this lush life they have, but we do get comments sometimes about how many books or toys the kids accumulate. I say this having just picked up an order of Scholastic books for our kids totaling $91. Sure, we won’t give them all out at once, but hey, we’re professors and we like to read, and as it turns out, so do our kids. Well, reading the toddler way of memorization anyway. It’s an awesome thing watching and listening as they call out the letters of the words and recognize some of them.

So how much is too much? Are our kids spoiled? Will they hate us for giving them the cushy life rather than letting them build “character” (or so we were told when we couldn’t afford something or didn’t get our way)? Will they shout out that they hate us and smothered them? Or will they snicker at us, the old ones, so out of touch with the youthful life they will live?

Or maybe, just maybe, they will turn out “normal,” whatever that is.