The Kidult Era: When Toys Became a Form of Healing

There’s something strange — and kind of beautiful — happening right now. Grown adults are lining up for toys. And I’m not talking about tech gadgets or vintage collectibles. I mean actual plushies, figurines, wide-eyed dolls with oversized heads and fruit hats.

People in their twenties and thirties (and beyond) are clutching Jellycats on the train, photographing their Labubu in coffee shops, and arranging their Sonny Angels like little altars on their bookshelves. Some find it cute. Others don’t get it at all. But if you take a closer look, it’s not really about the toys. It’s about what the toys represent.

We’re living in a world that’s kind of exhausting. We carry the weight of adulthood every day — bills, burnout, the pressure to always be doing more. There’s this silent competition to seem strong, unbothered, and successful. Somewhere in all that noise, we’ve started craving something softer. Something quieter. Something that reminds us of a time before everything got so heavy.

Toys — oddly enough — are becoming that safe place.

When I bought my first Jellycat, it wasn’t planned. I saw this ridiculous-looking croissant plush sitting on a shelf, and for some reason, I just… needed it. I didn’t think too hard about it at the time. I was tired. Work had been rough. I needed comfort, and there it was — smiling up at me like everything was going to be okay.

Turns out, I’m not the only one.

There’s a term for it now: kidults. Adults who embrace toys, cartoons, and childhood comfort items — not to be ironic, but to actually enjoy them. Some people roll their eyes. They say it's immature, silly, even escapist. But I think they’re missing the point. This isn’t about pretending to be a child. It’s about allowing ourselves to feel again. To remember softness. To hold onto a piece of joy in a world that demands so much toughness.

We grew up being told that once we reached a certain age, we had to put away childish things. But what if some of those things actually helped us stay sane? What if hugging a plush fox or collecting tiny dolls isn’t a regression — but a quiet, gentle rebellion against a culture that constantly tells us to “grow up” and “get over it”?

The rise of kidult culture isn’t just cute — it’s revealing. It tells us that people are craving connection. They want comfort in an overstimulating, unstable world. They're using these little characters — Labubu, Crybaby, and Sonny Angel — not just as decorations but as anchors.

And yes, there’s also something deeply nostalgic going on. A lot of us were raised in eras that felt safer. We played with dolls, watched Saturday morning cartoons, and didn’t have 400 tabs open in our brains at all times. Reaching back to those moments — even symbolically — makes us feel more whole.

I’ve seen adults with plushies on their desks at work. Not hidden away, but right there next to their monitors. I’ve seen people bring them on flights to calm anxiety or gift them to friends going through a hard time. These toys have become little messengers: “You’re safe. You’re loved. It’s okay to need a moment.” And honestly, the world could use more of that.

I get why some people might not understand. It’s easy to judge what we don’t relate to. But the kidult trend isn’t hurting anyone. If anything, it’s helping. It’s allowing grown-ups to let their guard down, even for a moment. To pause the performance of adulthood and just… breathe.

The line between childhood and adulthood doesn’t need to be so rigid. Maybe maturity isn’t about abandoning what once made us happy — maybe it’s about choosing what still does.

So yes, I sleep better with a stuffed croissant on my pillow. I have a Labubu on my bookshelf. And I’m not embarrassed. Because these small, strange, joyful things help me feel more like myself in a world that often asks me to be someone else.

Maybe that’s what growing up actually is — not letting go of joy, but learning how to carry it with you.