Princess and the Wild, Wild West

I'm in the process of cleaning out the attic and I found this. Something bought for Sierra, originally.

Mireya was on the computer, but I set this out in case she might find it interesting. Then I went back in the attic for further rummaging.



When I came out I found this:


And let's not forget the sharpshooters on the ridge...





And the fight over in the ravine...


Given our heritage, I'm glad it's not clear who is the good guys and who is the bad guys. Cuz we're a mixed bag over here.


You know, I don't think Disney has a wild west princess. Well, there's Pocahontas, but when you read the history and realize she was 13 and her name means "spoiled child" and she was held captive by the boys in Jamestown, it gets a little pedophilia.

So we'll have to start with Annie Oakley. I wonder if she wore pink...

Please wipe your carbon footprint at the door...

How big is our carbon footprint? Do they have one of those little metal measuring things around for it? Is it a 9 1/2 D? Or more of a 6 EE?

Whatever, I suspect it's a big honkin' clod hopper boot, not a little strappy stiletto heel number.

Ever since the global warming monster came out of the closet and started breathing heavy on ice caps and polar bears, I’ve looked around in amazement at what a big impact we have on our little patch of the environment.

Whether or not you believe that the ice caps are melting, polar bears are headed for serious makeovers and penguin dads are going to be a little warmer during their “hold jr. on your toes” part of parenting, it’s really scary to realize just how much trash comes in a modern childhood.

First of all there’s the whole toy thing. Just buying a toy means committing to disposing of three times the toy’s weight in wrapping. I presume these 40 different zip ties and half dozen layers of plastic are designed to thwart theft. I hope they are using these techniques on important things at the Pentagon, because trust me, no one would be able to sneak out those top secret plans if they had them wrapped up like Barbie’s doggie grooming shop.

In fact, at home we have a toolbox designated for unwrapping newly bought toys which contains pliers, a flat head screwdriver, a Phillips screwdriver, scissors and two knives – serrated and smooth. Pretty soon we’ll be adding a flamethrower.

And don’t even get me started on the toys themselves - which have a useful life of about a week.

The other area where we are having a severe environmental impact is in schoolwork. I swear I never did this much work when I was at school. Was there a paste shortage when I was growing up? Was paper really expensive? Were teachers focused on doing everything on blackboards?

Whatever the reason we never brought home this much schoolwork.

Then there’s the permission slips. I get several permission slips per child every week. When I was a kid I think I brought home one a year. Like seat belts, permission slips were only used for big trips – like across international waters.

I’d like to think we could reduce our carbon footprint. We’ve changed light bulbs, reduced our use of juice boxes, and tried to be less wasteful in general. We’ve tried to recycle and have created many interesting sculptures out of discarded plastic toys and bottles. But we’ve got a long way to go.

In the meantime, I’m hoping for a paste shortage.

Climbing Toy Mountain

Our daughter's birthdays are within weeks of each other and right before the big birthday extravaganza starts I like to cull through the Mt. Everest of toys and try to bring it back down to K2 size.

I am rarely successful in this because no matter how careful I plan, or how quickly I remove the stash, the kids somehow bring them back from the brink of recycling. It's absolutely uncanny. They go from not noticing a pile of laundry that has built up to avalanche proportions to detecting the tiniest erosion in their six-story toy mounds.

This is part of their father's American Indian heritage, no doubt. If only I could send them out to track a few jack rabbits, then I might be able to sneak out a couple headless dolls or odd fast food toys.

How does this happen? How did our house become home to the greatest deposit of plastic and acrylic fur on the block?

Before I run off with a nice long story of how cheap toys have destroyed our national appreciation for well-made, hand crafted toys and how if it weren't for global competition I wouldn't be able to add a seemingly infinite number of toys to the bin for a mere two or five bucks, let me confess.

It's me. The packaging, the little cute outfits, the interesting things you could build, the snappy television and movie tie ins—they sucker me right in. I have no resistance. None.

This is part of why it takes so long to cull the toys, why I can't swoop in there with a plastic bag while the kids are outside for 30 minutes. It's me. Well, not me exactly. It's because there's a little girl in me that just can't part with the circus train that has the cages and open car for the giraffe and the snazzy snow boots and cape that go with the doll and sleigh set.

That's right. I'm a toy marketers target market. They probably have a picture up on the wall of me with the caption "There's one born every minute! Go Get Her!"

Still, it's getting dangerous in the family room and with the recent addition of the princess bed (which is another story altogether) and upcoming birthday celebrations, we've got to get rid of a few bags full of toys. So I have a plan.

Next week I may be able to get both daughters out of the house for a few hours in the morning, and I'll try to dig my way through the mountain. If I'm not back by noon, just come on over. You can help me build a miniature circus town complete with snow park. But I get to drive the train, 'k?

Toy invasion
When did we start to have toys with every meal? Remember when toys were rare, almost always just appearing at birthdays and Christmas?
Then along came Cracker Jack. I’ll bet there was someone in the “hook ‘em with the toy” business before Cracker Jack, but they were the first ones I knew about (it started in 1912, you can read about it here).
Remember when Cracker Jack used to put in actual toys? Not rub on tattoos, and weird optical illusions, but cool decoder rings and little figurines? Then all the cereal companies figured out that it’s the kids who close the deal between the flakes and o’s and started stuffing in the toys. Sure, it was a toy that had to last you an entire month worth of cereal, but it was so worth it.
Then they created the “happy” meal. That’s when the wheels came off the wagon in my mind. Now there’s no end in sight. In fact, I suspect that entire fast food chains would collapse into their own grease traps if the happy meal toys were removed by some well meaning, but clueless government regulator who was trying to reduce the size of landfills.
Those toys have magically transformed the least appetizing food into something worth an hour of whining in our house. The begging gets intense as we come within the gravitational pull of the fast food restaurant and before you know it, the car is filled with French fries, something that is inexplicably referred to as “chicken,” and molded bits of plastic. All of which end up in the trash in 20 minutes, only partially eaten and nominally played with.
It’s like a fish taking the bait, then spitting out the worm once it’s in the boat.
After I recently cleared out 6,452 stuffed animals in my daughters’ room, I uncovered a half dozen unopened happy meal toys. As I tossed them in the trash, I briefly wondered if there was a market for these things.
Of course there is! On the online auction site. Once again I’ve be throwing away my children’s college fund education because of a misguided need to “straighten up.”
Thankfully, there are a few second tier fast food places trying to rise above the rubble. In our last trip we scored a Russian language CD. We still can’t say hello in Russian, although we did discover that godzilla (or something that sounds remarkably like godzilla) means “good afternoon.”
I think. Or was it “fries, please”?