Friday, November 13, 2009

If you see me looking confused at the toy store, this is why.

I am in full Christmas shopping mode.

I've learned over the last 9 years of being a mom, that all the best deals on kids' toys and games happen before Thanksgiving.

The early bird gets the worm.

Therefore, I am having no trouble whatsoever finding bargains on toys, especially during this recession. Let's just say that with all the people I have to buy for, I have definitely been doing my part to stimulate our little corner of the economy. Because it's all for the economy, right? I'm just being patriotic.

Anyway, it's not the bargains I am having trouble with. I'm just running out of ideas.

Annabel is easy. If it's pink, she'll take it. But with three boys, we already have our fair share of trucks, action figures, video games, sports equipment and other boy accoutrement. The kids have made their lists, and as long as the things they have requested are somewhat reasonable, I will consider it. Santa may come through, or Bill and I will come through. But sometimes will look at the list and say, "Hell no." For example, "I want a dog."

Someday the dog will happen. Just not yet.

I grabbed my circulars this week, and I hit Target and Toys 'R Us in search of toys. Among other things, one of Charlie's requests is Tech Deck fingerboards and ramps.

They're mini skateboards. That you use on small ramps. With your fingers. Fingerboards.

Sorry. I just nodded off there while explaining it.

I just don't get it. They're super hawt toys among the tweener boy set. But I can't think of anything more boring. I said to Charlie, "So you mean you just use your fingers, pretend that they are feet, and do skate tricks on the ramps?"

"Yeah Mom. It's so cool. Everyone has 'em."

Well then. By all means. Everyone has them. I must not let my son be ostracized for his lack of fingerboards.

How is it that someone is getting immensely rich at such a ridiculously simple idea? I'm jealous.

Alas, there's nothing inappropriate or violent about Tech Deck, so I bought Charlie a few boards and ramps. And I promise you, in advance, that I will blog about the first time I step on a fingerboard on the hardwood floors, lose my balance, and land on my tailbone.

'Cause that's totally gonna happen.

Onto the next.

All my boys are obsessed with Star Wars. Yoda and friends have a stranglehold on their little hearts that just won't quit.

I headed over to the Star Wars aisle, and saw this:

It's a real robotic arm! You can build, use, and display it! It's on sale for $22.49! Even better, it's Darth Vader's Arm! There's only 42 snap-together parts!

Oh. Only 42? Phew. I thought it would be something crazy like 43 snap-together parts. Then that would be ridiculous.

Actually, it looks like a great toy, and the perfect project for my Henry. This is so up his alley that the box should say, "Hi Henry, I'm waiting."

But I am hesitant to buy it for a few reasons.

1.) There's 42 snap-together parts. Did you read that part? I have no doubt that Henry can assemble all 42 snap-together parts. But that's 42 snap-together parts in my house. Just waiting to get lodged in the carpeting. Or to fall behind couches. Or to get sucked up my vacuum.

I need 42 snap-together parts like I need a hole in my head.

2.) The description of this toy says, "The Star Wars Darth Vader Robotic Arm by Uncle Milton shows you how to build a robotic arm and lets you grip and move real objects with interactive controls."

When I looked at the toy and learned that it does real hand things, the description in my head said, "Henry will use this robotic arm to give George a wedgie. George will retaliate by manipulating the hand into a fist, and punch Henry in the stomach."

I have enough trouble with the kids keeping their hands to themselves. Do I really need a robotic arm to punish now? Because I can just hear it. "You said not to touch each other, Mom, and we didn't. The arm did."

I'll admit that I'm still thinking about it. I have a feeling I'm going to end up buying the robotic arm, if only for the reason that it will keep Henry and maybe a brother or two busy on a cold, winter afternoon while they put together all 42 snap-together parts.

Not 43. Heaven forbid. That would be crazy.

As I rounded the corner at Toys 'R Us today, after my contemplation of the robotic arm, I was rendered speechless.

And that's a hard thing to do. Because I like to talk.

But holy crap. I saw this.

Holy slutbag. It's Little Red Riding Hood, imagined by Barbie.

The sluttiest. Barbie. Ever.

And the best part is that she retails for a paltry $49.99.

Hooker dolls don't come cheap, you guys.

Okay. Where do I begin with the wrongness of this wrong-o wrongly wrong wrongocity?

First of all, it's just so wrong.

Secondly, this is exactly how Red and the Wolf were positioned in the box. His beady little eyes are directly targeting her crotch.

Sorry Wolf. Don't want no short, short man.

However, Wolf's best feature is that he is dressed appropriately, and he's actually quite dapper. He couldn't be more covered up.

Red, not so much.

The fishnet/garter socks that tie with bows? The velvet midriff bustier? The skirt that shows it all?

She looks like she wants to huff, and puff, and blow...blow...your house down.

Geez. What did you think I was going to say, dirty mind?

Oh wait. That's the wrong fairy tale. Wrong wolf.

You get the point.

I have expressed my preference for Barbie dolls over Bratz dolls in this blog before. But Barbie, how do I defend you now? After this?

This Barbie could out-slut a skanky Bratz doll any day of the week. I'm not sure what the criteria would be in the official "Slut Off" contest between Bratz and Babs, but I'm sure it would not be rated "E" for Everyone.

It's a doll. Kids grow up so fast. Really, Mattel? Is this necessary?

Merry Christmas shopping to you all. Wishing you bargains aplenty and wholesome dolls for your daughters.

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