It's Alive

My daughter recently purchased a Baby Alive with her holiday money. Following is a brief survival guide should your child do the same.

1. Take little packet of juice mix which will later become pee mix. Hide.
2. Suggest that Baby Alive go commando during feedings.
3. Adopt refrain, "But sweetheart, all babies eat in the sink."
4. If Baby Alive insists upon wearing diaper during feedings, dry said diaper between feedings. A warm, sunny window works best. Note: This will only work if you follow Step 1.
5. Adopt refrain, "But sweetheart, all babies wear wipes and rubber bands to bed." Because seriously, if you've just gotten your kid out of diapers, do you really want to buy diapers for her doll?

drug money

My late-night Sap Fest has turned into an informal study of commercials for new prescription medicines. Apparently, people who favor holiday shlock also

1. have osteoporosis
2. can't sleep
3. have or are married to someone with E.D.

The lists of side effects on these commercials go on and on -- every one seems like a Saturday Night Live skit. "May cause eating problems, aches, pain, bleeding, bumps, mood swings, certain types of cancer." I mean, these are LOADED WORDS HERE, and there's no statistical data, nothing saying that the cancer is found in 1 out of 2,000 laboratory rats, for instance. Nothing even saying that the cancer is treatable. In some cases, the list of side effects lasts longer than the list of benefits the drug can provide. So what does that say about our listening habits? Do we gloss over the word "cancer" and just focus on the word "sleep"? Are the images so overpowering that all we take away is a beautiful, well-rested woman and the name of the drug? They have to be, or the companies wouldn't bother with television; they'd stick to other mediums where the fine print is really fine. (On TV, fine print is spoken, though in a comforting, hypnotic monotone.) There are lots of studies on this stuff available on the web,though though none of them has the exact answer I'm looking for. I'll shout when I've got it. You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

meds

So my son can't take medicine without gagging. He hates the taste. He hates the smell. When he woke up with a headache this week, I asked him if he wanted to take a caplet to make him feel better.

"You mean Motrin-easy-to-swallow caplets?" he asked between sniffles and tears. Now that's some scary marketing.

One last note from the parenting front: Sometimes it takes less time to hunt through the dirty dishes, find the blue plate and wash it than it takes to serve the eggs on the already washed green one.

puppy grows

We got an early start on the holiday season when we visited my dad in Columbia, S.C. and he bestowed upon my children their Chanukah presents. My daughter received a toy known as "Puppy Grows and Knows Your Name."

Where to begin?

Let's start with the name. Because they want children to be able to name their own puppies from one of their computer generated lists, they can't call it Rover or or Sir Wags or Guinevere or whatever else you'd name an animatronic poodle. Okay, I accept that. Allow at least a little room for a child's creativity. But how about something like My Little Puppy? My Furry Friend? Something a little more innovative than Puppy Grows and Knows Your Name? As is, it's setting a new precedent for toy naming. For instance: Globe on End of String that Goes to Floor and Comes Back Up Again. Small Human-Like Figures That Fit in Small House. Would the Frisbee have been as successful if we'd just called it a Flying Disc?

Which brings us to the next question: Do we want this product to be successful? My daughter's Puppy Grows and Knows Your Name has not yet been programmed because we want her to be able to share with her brother. I'm not sure Puppy Grows and Knows Your Name is able to serve multiple masters, which is bad news given that it costs anywhere from $40 to $75.

Then there's the voice, a woman's voice that says things like "You'll always be my special friend." Think Phyllis Diller working a 1-900-line.

My daughter, who has named her Puppy Grows and Knows Your Name "Pokey," loves this creature. We do not. She loves to feed her (bones, for which the dog responds with a great rhythmic slurping noise, followed by a burp.) We do not. She loves to measure her, to see how much she's grown. Puppy Grows and Knows Your Name can become a dog in a week. Fortunately, there's a reset switch, because little girls like the puppy stage best.

That's my rant for today. I'll let you know when Puppy Grows and Knows Your Name breaks. Or when my husband causes her to meet with an unfortunate accident.

ye olde gift shoppe

As you may have heard me mention, I am sick, sick, sick of the way people market to kids. Because when they do, the side effect is torture. TORTURE. It's hard enough to take a trip to the Air and Space Museum and discover they have not one, not two, but something like FOUR GIFT SHOPS on display along with the Voyager. (Well, it's four if you count the kiosks, which I do, because they are stocked with $4.00 astronaut ice cream and no 5-year-old can walk by astronaut ice cream without asking for some.) I got out with a NASA patch (the agreed-upon purchase for my son's bookbag), a space shuttle pen and my life.

But the rant continues because we just got back from putt-putt golfing at Mutiny Bay in the Outer Banks. To get either in or out, you had to pass through the Mutiny Bay Gift Shop. Pirate golf balls: $2 a piece. Pirate flags. Pirate ships. Pirate shot glasses. Pirate swords. Little pirates with guns. Big pirates with guns. Some of their stuff was actually priced pretty decently but I DON'T WANT STUFF. I WANT TO PAY MY $7.50 SO I CAN WATCH MY SON NINE-PUTT THE CANNON HOLE. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK??? I got out with our golfing score card. And a few tears. No extra charge.