THE PEANUT GALLERY: Inked

I came very close to getting a tattoo once. It was Spring Break '97. Panama City, Florida. My inebriation was high and my inhibitions were low. With what image was I considering branding myself? A lion carrying an Italian flag. So ridiculous on so many levels. (The lion is my fraternity's mascot and my zodiac sign.) Had I done it, I would regret having that tattoo now.

Why am I recalling this cautionary tale from my youth? This week, Mattel unveiled a limited edition Barbie doll complete with permanent tattoos. Parents, myself included, were in an uproar:

The inked-up "Tokidoki" Barbie

But why the uproar? This is obviously a publicity stunt for a collector's item. And parents who don't like it don't have to buy it. I calmed down about the tatted doll, named Tokidoki Barbie. What bugs me more is her pugnacious little pet dog named "Bastardino." Yes, Bastardino. Nice:

This dog's a little pr!ck

Even though I've come clean, so to speak, when it comes to tattoos, I recognize they are a big draw for kids the Peanut's age. Due to my own close call I wouldn't want the Peanut getting a permanent one anytime soon. Then again, she may very well have one right now:

The Girl with the Dinosaur Tattoo

She's had this dinosaur tattoo on her forearm since a birthday party last month. A freakin' month. Not even a Brillo pad and turpentine would wash it off. Is it ever going to go away? Rest assured, we bathe her regularly. Still, it clings to her skin. Then just last week at another birthday party, she thankfully decided against getting her face painted. (It's creepy and also a pain in the a$$ to wash off.) Instead, she got her other arm inked:

Even holding Lammie, she looked bada$$

That one came off in the bath that night. But Luna refused to be outdone. Our own little Bastardino got into the spirit at the groomer this weekend with some Halloween ink of her own:

The Dog with the Pumpkin Tattoo

Luna's ink probably doesn't give her quite the street cred that Tokidoki's does, or the Peanut's does for that matter. Regardless, everyone's tattoos will be gone soon. And so will Tokidoki Barbie.

If you're into tattooed Barbie, you may also like naked Ken. It's by far my most-read post ever.

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Dude Looks Like a Lady

"I'm not a girl's toy. I'm not. Why do you guys keep saying that?" -Michael Keaton, in his masterful performance as Ken in Toy Story 3

There I was. Laying on the floor after another long day. I lay on the floor for several reasons. To play with the dog. To stretch out. And to cool off.

But my fun and relaxation came to an abrupt end when I innocently turned my head for what was supposed to be a split second. I couldn't believe what I was staring at. I was face-to-face with him.

He's so pretty.

Ken.

And not just Ken. Buck-naked Ken.

Suddenly, I was awash in awkwardness. Partly because I couldn't take my eyes off of him. So disturbing and yet impressive at the same time. And partly because not only was I marveling at his physique, but at his situation as well.

Quite the pool party

You see, Ken was laying there, with a big sh!t-eatin' grin on his face, in the Peanut's Barbie pool... with two women. Having a good old time. Lucky dog.

I stared at him, more like grimaced uncomfortably. With the Peanut safely tucked away in bed, I had an open forum.

"Why is Ken naked?" I asked my wife.

"That's what she does. She takes off their clothes and plays with them naked. We could be in trouble when she's older."

And then, my wife... the reserved one of the two of us. My straight man, if you will. The Abbott to my Costello... she says, "Maybe she's headed for a life on the pole."

Oh. My. Gawd.

I couldn't believe she had just said that. I definitely didn't want to think about it. Thankfully, she changed the subject saying, "I most certainly remember Ken having underwear. And he certainly wasn't as pretty."

I looked at Ken again. Is he pretty? Now a new set of emotions is bubbling up inside of me.  She was right. He is pretty. I'm not afraid to admit it.

Bad enough he's got the perfectly chiseled body. Now he's got to be pretty too? Just look that fabulous head of hair. So jealous. And if I'm not mistaken, he's wearing lipstick. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Now it was time to investigate the first part of my wife's statement. I forced myself to look where his underwear should be. I said the only thing that came to mind.

What the hell is this?

"So you're saying your Ken doll growing up didn't have a man-gina?"

"No," my wife said holding back laughter. "He definitely didn't have a man-gina." (I love her for repeating "man-gina.")

What is UP with Ken's man-gina? They couldn't mold him some plastastic boxers or something? All the clothes they have for this guy... and he suddenly goes commando with his man-gina?

Barbie is one thing, with her stereotypes, curves, and cliches. And always with her constant nudity too. Now I've got to deal with Ken and the whole other boxload of innuendos and awkwardness he brings. A Pandora's boxload, if you will.

I'm not sure which situation is more disturbing: the Peanut's insistence that these dolls always be naked. Or the fact that I can't stop looking.

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Sticker Shock

"You don't own children, you only borrow them." -Anne Linn

Sometimes the reality of parenthood smacks you right in the face. And it's always when you least expect it.

I came home from work on Friday during the Peanut's nap time, expecting nothing more than the usual exuberant greeting from my dog and loving embrace from my wife. She had stayed home from work that day because daycare was closed for Good Friday.

Everything went as expected. The dog barked, her tail wagged, my wife met me at the door for a hug and kiss. Having completed the spousal and canine greeting rituals, I headed for the bathroom that is just off our kitchen.

What I saw on my way stopped me in my tracks.

There, on the counter, was the Peanut's sticker chart. The same one we used as motivation to get her to use the potty. A daily reminder of our triumphs and failures as potty-training parents. Every time she went, or wiped, or washed her hands, or flushed... she got a sticker. All kinds of stickers. Sesame Street, Barbie, hearts.

A piece of our history

Now the stickers are peeling at the corners. Part of the chart is ripped and being held together with the stickers themselves.

This chart is a relic. It's an artifact from our not-so distant past.

My little girl has been going like a big girl for almost a year now.

A combination of procrastination and denial has prevented us from taking it down.

But on her day off, a rare day to focus on the homefront without the distractions and obligations of the weekend, my wife decided to clean up something that's needed cleaning for a while. To finally just rip off that proverbial Band-Aid.

And I must admit, it hurts a little.

When the Peanut finally was potty trained, I told an epic tale. Click here to read it.

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