thistledown


powered by SignMyGuestbook.com

Get your ow
n diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry

2002-12-13 - 11:42 a.m.

My search for the elusive Dancing Dora goes into day two. I spent some of my work day calling the toy stores I might conceivably get to without undertaking a major expedition. And they were all quick to tell me what I was afraid to hear: NO. No more Dancing Doras.

So at last I decided to just suck it up and do what I was trying to avoid: make a pilgrimage to the big suburban Toys R Us. Even though I like toys and I like kids (well, one or two at a time) the cacophony of screaming children, yelling parents and dozens of people of all ages simultaneously shaking, rattling, pushing buttons, pulling strings to make dozens of toys talk, sing, screech, roar and explode, combined with the background noise of muzak and several competing movies and video games on TV sets... is probably the ultimate sensory overload.

(And just an idle question: Why do parents bring young children into the hyper-charged atmosphere of a mega-toy store at Christmas, and then even expect them to be good and quiet and not beg for anything? It is almost too much for ME, and I know I'd be screaming if I was four...)

A tour down the aisles of TRU reveals a world of toys I didn't even know existed. My inner nine-year-old made me stop and look at all the little horses with the leather saddles and silky manes you can comb. If those had existed when I was that age, I would have been really, really good.

My quest for Dora leads me to the aisle containing every possible permutation of small humanoid. There are dolls that swim, and skate and hula-hoop. Dolls that ride the little horses, and dolls that.... apparently, uh.... give birth. That's right. I saw with my own eyes - Pregnant Midge. Midge is a friend of Barbie, and although my adult self has a lot of objections to Barbie as role-model and cultural icon, I will just admit upfront that I played with Barbie. And since this was back in the days of the scary heavy-eye-makeup Barbie, I actually liked her friend Midge with the freckles and cute flip much better. I even had her milktoast boyfriend with the little beach slippers, Allen. So, here in the toy store is Midge, whom I haven't seen in thirty years or so (who by rights ought to be about fifty-five, but I know doll-years are not the same as people years...) out to HERE in her teeny-tiny maternity smock. And according to the package, baby in utero as well as baby accessories are included. "It's a girl." So am I to conclude that young girls can now stage a birthing? (And is there any social significance to the fact that Dad is "sold separately?") I couldn't quite make out from the picture on the box how this worked. My guess is that the process is not anatomically correct, and cheery Midge just removes a shell of some kind from her front and out pops baby. (I'm glad I didn't have one of these when I was a kid because it would have reinforced the misconception I had all through childhood that ladies went to the hospital and had an operation to have babies removed, like, say a giant gall stone.) But I digress.....

After I failed to find Dora on my own, and managed to escape from the world of Barbie, I finally asked the first clerk who made the mistake of making eye contact with me. And miraculously he led me to a shelf where not one but two Dancing Doras still existed. He must have been a little surprised (or maybe not) by how quickly I grabbed one, without a moment's hesitation. With Dora safely in hand, I gave in to the temptation to press the button on her shoes. She sings a little song and twists her upper half in a dancing motion. I giggle, mostly from relief.... and then look up to see that the only other person in the aisle, a man with a cart full of toys, is amused at ME. And then, he moves toward the other Dancing Dora.

And now.... I am going to eat my words of sarcasm about Dancing Dora. Obviously, even though I was determined to provide what was asked for, I thought some dancing mechanical doll was a frivolous gift for a two-year old. But.... after meeting Dancing Dora, I changed my mind: I officially approve.

First of all, she not only dances but she talks and sings in both Spanish and English. She has a beautiful tan skin color, and shiny dark hair, and big brown eyes. I am sure it must be very hard for Hispanic parents to find appropriate dolls for their little girls, so it is no wonder she is so popular.

The box calls her "Dora the Explorer:" she is wearing a little backpack and sneakers, and sings "We did it! We did it!" So I officially approve of a doll with an adventurous attitude, rather than a sit-around-and-look-pretty attitude. And then.... Dora is really cute and she's also short and chubby. I think we need more positive images of short and chubby. So many of us look more like Dora than like Barbie.

So... Merry Christmas little Hannah. I would have bought Dancing Dora for you even if she were a platinum blond in a ballgown. But I am so much happier to be sending you someone with a positive message about your world.

previous - next

< ? Random Acts of Journaling # >

alchera ? !

about me - read my profile! read other Diar
yLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get
 your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!