One of the joys of having a blog is that a person can write whatever the heck he or she wants. Rant ad nauseum about the prospect of another Kennedy in the Senate? Why not? (And, with all due respect to John Judis, yes... it would be.) Pontificate about the man Obama picks to lead the opening prayer at his inauguration? Bring it. Think those lousy kids should stay the hell off your lawn? Sure.

So I am going to do myself a solid, and write about this. Yes, if there's one thing at America has been crying out for, it's a baby doll that soils itself. I was prompted to post by two things. One was this:

"For us, the peeing and pooping is pretty magical," said Kathleen Harrington, senior brand manager for Hasbro's Baby Alive dolls. "As adults, we might be a little grossed out. But it's so magical and so funny and so silly for these girls. This little doll is coming to life, so the little girl doesn't believe it's just a doll. It's her baby." Harrington calls it part of the doll's "Wow!" factor.
Magical pooping. [Since it would be frankly creepy to Google Ms. Harrington for the purpose of a frivolous posting, I will make up a backstory for her.] Imagine a young Kathleen, sitting in a coffee shop between classes at...let's say, Bennington. She dreams of a future with purpose. With meaning. That will somehow make use of her "Gender Issues in Contemporary Toy Design" class. I wonder, did she ever see her career leading to the discussion of the magic of fake pooping?

Still, this is not to crux of my concern about this. I don't know, or care, if this is developmentally appropriate. Children have survived all manner of crack-pot toys since Cro-magnon kids took to pelting each other with stones. What prompted me to reveal my cranky side is this:

The buzz is on parent online discussion groups across the country. As with the Tickle Me Elmo and Cabbage Patch Kids crazes of Christmases past, one mother was so distraught that the pooping dolls were sold out online just after Thanksgiving that she prepared to rise at 5 a.m. to scour stores in a 100-mile radius of her house.
Ladies and gentlemen, this mother is crazy. Admittedly, she is not alone. There is nothing, with the possible exception of such things as insulin, that justifies this kind of devoted searching. It is far more developmentally harmful for a child to indoctrinate her with the idea that the most important thing in Mommy's world is for her to have this year's must-have toy, than to have her play with (what I admittedly consider revolting) a pooping doll. Get her something else. Give her the pooping doll for another gift-giving occasion. Let her learn all manner of character-building lessons about something other than consuming.

Thank you. I feel better now.

No comments:

Post a Comment