Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

Is this happening in any other households?  The toy catalogues have started to pour in by the thousands.  Yes, word is out.  There are two little girls living in this house, and every retailer in a 300 mile radius knows all about it.  They also, it seems, know exactly what their current obsession of the moment is.  I’m actually surprised that they haven’t yet gotten to the point where they just rip the boy pages right out of the catalogs for us.  Use it as kindling.  They must not yet be sensing the lack of testosterone in the house.  Maybe because my husband puts out enough for two.  Were they to visit though, the beam of glitter that catches the suns rays from Every.  Single.  Toy.  In the house, would assure them that we are Estrogen City.

So the girls were delighted last night to take the latest catalogs that had almost tipped over our mailbox, and sit down to ooh, aah, and squeak over the three toys that were in the catalogues that we don’t have.

Toys R Us?  Forget it.  They don’t even have anything left on their shelves that we don’t currently stock in our house.

“Mom,” Paige gushed.  “I want this big, giant fairy kitchen!”  She may not have said “big, giant,” but that’s what I heard.

“First of all,” I started, “It’s gi-normous.  Where do you plan on putting it?”

She didn’t really have an answer, and I don’t think she really even cared that I had a qualm at all.

“Secondly, you already HAVE a kitchen.  That you never touch.”

“But not like this one!” she whined.

“I’ll paint it green and put some wings on it.  You’ll be fine.”

“I’ll just ask Santa,” she pouted.

No she won’t.  In three minutes she’ll forget she ever saw the fairy kitchen.

Meanwhile, Allie was busy next to her pointing to every item in HER catalogue and saying, “I want this, and this, and this, and this!”

“You can’t have EVERYTHING,” Mother Paige chastised.

Allie ignored her and kept right on going.  “Ooh!  Mama!  I want THIS!”

THIS, was one of those table that infants learn to pull up with.  You know, those stand ‘n’ learn tables.  “Um, that’s for babies,” I pointed out.

She sniffed dramatically.  “I’m a baby!”

“No.  Like, baby babies.  Teeny, tiny babies.”

Like that, she turned off the tears and the sniffles.  “Oh.”  And she moved on.  But on the next page, was a monkey.  Allie has a thing for monkeys.  I’m not sure why.  But just show her a monkey, and she goes into near convulsions.  You may remember the monkey that I had to make for her.  She started to screech and squeak and squeal.  The dogs ears went up and her head tilted.  My husband turned his head and looked at her curiously, believing she may be choking on a piece of chicken, or something.

In actuality, she had only come across this.

furreal

This is apparently some sort of interactive monkey that says over 100 phrases (since when do monkeys talk?).  The thing has a ridiculous price.  As far as monkeys go, anyway.  Especially monkeys that plan on ruining the next six months of my life.

But she was squeaking.  And had her hands pressed up next to her face, as if the cuteness factor was too much for her to even stand.

So we went out and did $500 worth of Christmas shopping last night.  Paige got a camera.  She’s been begging for one.  And Allie got the Furreal Monkey.

Pray for me.

Advertisements