Stickers Were Everything. What Happened?
A love letter to gold stars, glitter unicorns, and the currency of childhood
Let’s talk about stickers.
When you’re a kid, stickers are wildly valuable. They are like the stock market. But a stock market, you actually understand.
You don’t just *get* stickers. You *earn* them.
Do something impressive like counting to ten or not licking the wall? Boom. Stickers.
It’s exhilarating to be paid in cartoon turtles and holographic stars.
And let us not forget sticker charts. Truly the Wall Street of childhood.
You didn’t just get a sticker if you filled the whole chart. No. You got a prize. Something enormous…. like a small eraser. If you were really good, you might get a bouncy ball or plastic spider ring that you would cherish for a solid 11 minutes before losing it in the car on the way home.
Stickers were currency. They were status. Stickers meant you did something.
Stickers meant finished the chore. You counted to a hundred. You refrained from peeling an entire layer of Elmer’s glue off your hand in one perfect sheet and did not stand before your classmates and shout, ‘I am reborn!’ as you did it.
Stickers. You did a thing, and the universe answered with a tiger wearing sunglasses.
You were rich beyond reason.
And then you grow up.
One day you’re walking through the store, and in a forgotten aisle, next to the markers and the erasers shaped like dolphins, there they are:
Racks and racks of stickers FOR SALE.
Puffy ones. Shiny ones. Ones that smell like purple for some reason.
Rows and rows of dinosaurs and bees and stars and happy, approving anthropomorphic snack foods.
And you’re hit with a devastating fact:
You can just buy stickers.
No one is checking. No one is asking you to spell ‘Mississippi’ first or name three U.S. presidents or remember which months have 31 days. Nothing. Just stickers, up for grabs. Like some lawless utopia.
You reach out your hand, pluck them from the shelf, and exchange a few crumpled bills. The cashier hands you the stickers. You hold a plastic bag filled with unearned celebration. Somehow, it feels all wrong.
Now, at first, this is a somewhat painful realization. A betrayal. A cheapening of something sacred.
But then … maybe …. you buy some anyway …
Maybe … you start giving them away . . .
Maybe you start awarding stickers for tiny victories.
A star for remembering a friend’s birthday.
A dolphin for making it through a Monday.
A happy tomato because someone folded the laundry.
And slowly, gently, the wonder returns.
Because you realize the stickers were never about earning.
They were about noticing.
They were about someone stopping long enough to say: This mattered. This was good. This is worth mentioning.
You matter. I see you. I celebrate you.
And now you are the one with the stickers.
The keeper of the gold stars.
The distributor of tiny rewards.
The benevolent ruler of minor celebrations.
Now, *you* are the one who gets to say:
“I see you. I celebrate you. Here is a turtle with sunglasses.”
And maybe, just maybe, that’s even better.
Get that free sticker for your copy of Fail-a-Bration today!
Hey, Brad, does your online store has stickers? It does!
My book Becoming Better Grownups celebrates 5 years next month. Signed copies available here.
When I was a teacher, I had student teachers in my classroom. Pokemon cards were very popular and I saved all the energy cards and kept them in my pocket. When I saw a teacher who was feeling really tired or frustrated, I would just quietly lay an energy card on the table in front of them and it would bring them a big smile and they would get back at it. I like your idea of giving people stickers for everyday things. Keep doing your good work, Brad.
"benevolent ruler of minor celebrations" is a beautiful thought and something I am going to carry with me... to think, just a sticker in my pocket is a minor celebration waiting to happen.