Linka's Kids was born at 3:00am in a Target parking lot
It was December, 2016 and the toy of the year was the Hatchimal.
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Our 4-year-old at the time was so excited to unbox and nurture his little electronic pet out of the shell and into his life. And like most parents every year, by the time we realized how high the Hatchimal was on our son’s holiday list, they had already become unbuyable: the $60 toy was going for upwards of $350 on eBay and were off the shelves before we could hope to get our hands on one.
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After much research, my wife realized the only feasible way to get a Hatchimal was to camp out overnight. To put it mildly, I was not on board with this idea. Several discussions sounding like “he doesn’t need this thing”, and “his birthday is next month, we can just get him one then” were had. But she was resolute; her devotion to holiday magic was (and is) unwavering. I was begrudgingly convinced.
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My wife found a local Target that was getting a shipment, and so she made a plan: I'd go to bed early while she went down to scope out the impending queue near closing time. Then, she'd determine when to go down that night and stay until about 2am, at which point we'd rendezvous and trade places so I could keep our spot in line until opening at 7:30am. If this sounds absurd to you, you're right, because it is.
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…
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The night came and as I rolled up to the parking lot with piles of clothes in the passenger seat, I found an urban campsite: blankets, thermoses, camping chairs, and every article of outerwear you can think of strewn about the sidewalk, all in front of the accidentally enshrined sliding doors. It was 15 degrees Fahrenheit with nothing to do but sit around, count the flickers of the streetlights, and think about how cold you were. This was going to be a long 5 hours.
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I got layered up and went over to the group. Our short-term fraternity consisted of about a dozen people sitting in a circle. My wife is for sure the more social of the two of us - she was talking animatedly about I-don’t-remember-what, but was as always her charming self. I managed a grunt of “hello”, and plopped down next to her.
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“That’s number One,” she said brightly, gesturing toward the man closest to the door. “And that’s Two.” An older lady holding a coffee nods at me. I'm wondering if I'll be able to tell the difference between drowsiness and hypothermia.
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“And you are number Three! We gave each other names based on our order in line. Isn’t that fun?!”
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You have to understand that my wife is unfailingly friendly and lovable. I am whatever the opposite of that is. But with ease, she somehow manages to get me introduced to the motley crew we've joined.
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This is when things changed. That night led me to meeting and talking with people who I never would have spent time with in any other situation: a grandma who was a retired finance executive sitting here for her granddaughter; a line worker at the M&M Mars factory in line for her nephew; a construction worker staying up all night for his little girl. All of a sudden, people who hadn't known each other two hours earlier were holding spots in line and buying coffee for each other, shuttling each other back and forth to the bathroom at the diner, and talking and laughing like they'd been friends for years.
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“And guess what, honey?” my wife said. “WE CAN BUY TWO! And give the other one to the children’s hospital!”
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In that moment, Linka’s Kids was born.
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“Think about those moms and dads with sick kids. Think about how hard it was for us to get one of these things - and we have two healthy kids and no medical bills. What are the chances of a kid in the hospital over the holidays getting a hatchimal?”
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I hadn't thought of it like that.
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…
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In what had been a harrowing experience to find this arbitrarily anointed holy grail of the 2016 holidays, the common denominator of bringing holiday joy to a child had created an amazing experience for all of us. Our disparate little group had been drawn together in the universe like a midnight Breakfast Club.
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The beautiful irony of that night is that one of the most stressful, competitive, consumerist phenomena known to man brought out some of the friendliest, relatable, and altruistic qualities in all of us. Brought together and united with these complete strangers, commonly motivated to sit overnight in the freezing cold to deliver that feeling to a child’s Christmas morning, my wife and I had stumbled upon and unlocked this extra purpose for giving.
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After that night, my wife decided she wants to lift that experience out of the midnight parking lot and spread it like wildfire. She wants to deliver as many hard-to-find toys as she can, because she knows how amazing people can be when they are motivated to deliver that feeling, and she knows how powerful it can be to receive something so difficult to find.
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Linka's Kids focuses on sick children because we understand that being a parent is hard enough without the burden of tragedy or illness. We understand that time and money are precious and limited commodities in an increasingly stressful world. And while no toy will overshadow the incredible difficulties the kids and families who receive our donations face every day, we know deep down that receiving help during a trying time, even just a little and especially from a stranger, can rekindle hope and restore strength.
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2016 was a special year, but it's just a sample of what's to come. 2017 was even better: we upped our game, upped our budget, and reached out to friends on social media. My wife raised and matched enough money to deliver more than 20 Fingerlings to kids at Ronald McDonald House, as well as a little boy named Ryland who is in the hospital for the holidays because of the Sutherland Springs church shooting.
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So that’s our story up to this point. The 2023 season is in full swing and we are already collecting, getting as many as we can, and will deliver them to kids who wouldn’t otherwise have the chance. Learn how to get involved here!
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Thanks for reading, and have a happy holiday!
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- Lesley and Chris