Teeny Manolo

Today is a day for sitting on the fence.

I don’t know if it is because being sick for over a week has worn me down, or if there has just been too much to do and not enough time to do it.

But today, I am going to have an absolute non-opinion. 

About Christmas sweaters for kids.

In their favor, they usually have bright colors and I am always a sucker for a sweater.  Probably because I live where you can comfortably wear a sweater for about one month out of the year.  I’m sure if we could wear them all the time, their charms would be minimized.

Not in their favor are gaudy designs and just the fact that I am not an overly “cutesie” type of person, even when it comes to children’s clothing.  Even when the Munchkin was very young, I resisted putting him in items with dogs and trucks all over them.  I’m just ornery like that.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not in favor of adults wearing Christmas sweaters.  Maybe if you are over 60 I will cut you a bit of slack.  You know, if it was a gift from your grandkids or something. But really, seeing someone dressed in one does not in any way, shape, or form put me in the holiday spirit.  In fact, despite their general ugliness, they tend to be rather expensive.  Unless you go the way of the Christmas sweatshirt, and then all kinds fugly can be unleashed thanks to the miracle of silkscreening.

So, this year will not find the Munchkin in a sweater with Santa or reindeers or snowmen.  But, if I see a three year old in one, I will probably smile and think she is cute.

Nope, I’ve got some pre-shrunk Italian wool sweaters, and those sound perfect to me. 

For those of you who have no idea what we were on about yesterday, here is the Anaheim Ballet’s video of the highlights of the Nutcracker in just under ten minutes. See, I told you there were rats and soldiers and all kinds of macho things, as well as kids, sugarplum fairies, and dancing snowflakes. But how many ballets have rat battles and beheadings, eh? tell me that!

And more to wear to the splendid occasion:

I know, I know, it’s the most expensive thing your kid will ever hate to wear, but just gaze upon that sweet, preppy child and try to tell me you don’t want to give him a hug.
And for the young ladies (updated, as we seem to have few fans of sewing):

We are aware, here in the Manolosphere, that there are those who do not love ballet. We feel sorry for them, and we assume that they were traumatized in a horrible pointe shoe accident as toddlers. We seek, therefore, to reintroduce them to this finest of all athletic arts one bunny hop at a time.

We will start them off on The Nutcracker.

Not the story; if you actually read E.T.A. Hoffman you quickly see that he was a nutbar of the very nuttiest type. We start them off right with the ballet itself.

Now, this ballet, it has many things going for it. It has magic. It has a mysterious sugar daddy. It has a prince. It has soldiers and cossacks and battles and rats. And, if it’s the Pacific Northwest Ballet version, it has sets designed by Maurice Sendak and special effects whipped up by Boeing engineers in their spare time (presumably making airplanes stay up is dull relative to making Christmas trees explode).

Oh, and it has dancing, too.

But, ballet fan though I may be, I maintain that the best part of the Nutcracker is the outfits.

Not those outfits.

These ones.

A full third of my motivation for going to this particular ballet is the chance to see all the cute little kids dressed up and looking good; given the fact that ballets are rarely performed adjacent to food or Play-Doh, it’s also the one chance they have to STAY looking good for several hours. Not a few parents cram the photo with Santa into this day; although their children may be overwrought and unhinged by such a jam-packed day, they do look fabulous, and that’s what counts when Aunt Fran is comparing your brood to her sister’s, eh?

But while there are a billion attractive options for girls formal dresses, what have we got for little boys?

Still.

Equal rights, my friends, include the right to be equally fabulous, and I’m afraid this just doesn’t do it for me, velvet though it may be. Go ahead, search: Amazon doesn’t even have a category for boy’s formal wear. I suppose the powers that be simply assume that your boys will be happy with a band tee, a mackinaw, and some overalls for their special occasions. Or variations on the sailor suit, which really hasn’t been the same since Tom of Finland. Really, there’s a huge gap where boy’s formal wear could be; if you trawl through “boy’s suits and sport coats” on Amazon you end up looking at orange pj sets and some hip-hop track suits with satin trim. It’s enough to give one the vapours, whatever they are.

Now, the vest thing I understand. Try wrestling a willful five-year-old into the sausage-casing sleeves of a suit jacket and tell me that vests aren’t a good thing. Indeed, I’m going out on a limb here and saying that, for small boys, vests are an acceptable substitute for suit jackets. This special exemption ends when the child is old enough to learn cursive and/or l33t. In the meantime, may we suggest:

Tori, since it seems to be cold enough for a scarf, hat and to have your own legs securely covered, why not make sure your son’s are too? A blankie might be in order, although at that age, they sometimes try to throw the blanket off just to see the parental reaction of horror that the blanket has been dragging on the dirty pavement.  So I sort of understand.  Sort of.

On one hand, I thoroughly enjoy any chance I can get to look at cute little baby legs.  On the other, I keep wondering how cold those wee bare patches of exposed skin are getting.   

My maternal instinct makes me want to hunt them down on that sidewalk and throw one of the Munchkin’s old baby blankets on him.  As I fight my way through the paparazzi, I’ll shove it at her and say, “It’s not that expensive, it can drag all over creation, I don’t care!  Legs that cute deserve to be covered!  I know that goes against everything you’ve learned in Hollywood, but fight it Tori, fight it!”

And as they are carting me away in handcuffs, at least I will know that somewhere out there, a child’s legs are warm because of me. 

I was clothes shopping for my son not too long ago. They had a promotion going, where if you bought three of the same shirt style, you could get them for $15 or some such deal that was hard to pass up. He really needed shirts for school, and these were perfect.

For some reason, I can never find my son’s size in the colors and styles that I want, and this time was no exception. I had a navy blue and a mustard yellow shirt, but the red was a size too small. They had nothing else.

That’s when I heard it.

“Gliiiindaaaa….”

It seemed to be emanating from the bottom of the shelf. I bent down a bit and said, “Who are you?”

“Gliiiindaaaa, I am the white shirt, forlornly folded along with my ignored brethren. No one will buy me.”

“For good reason,” I snapped. “Don’t you know that I have a five year old? And why are you talking to me like you are a ghost?”

“Weellll… Ahem, you’re right, there is no real reason to talk like a ghost. I just thought, you know, white, ghost… It was a theme. Never mind.”

“Ok, I get it, but you know I can’t buy you. A five year old in a white shirt is just asking for trouble.”

“But Glinda, I match everything. You live in a warm, sunny climate. And, you know that you are pathologically unable to buy two of the same shirt in the same color.”

“Ha! If you know that much about me, then you also know I am pathologically concerned about clean shirts. And I have a better chance at winning the lottery than you staying clean for longer than ten minutes. Tops.”

“One word, Glinda. Bleach.”

“Oh fine. I just know I’m going to regret this.”

And sure enough, today that white shirt became toast. From spilled blueberries, to marker, to dirt, it is now relegated to “at home” wear.

Curse you, white shirt! May you never darken, or uh, whiten my doorstep again!

Maybe I’ll give you another chance when he hits high school. Maybe. But you’ll have to do some pretty sweet talking.

(Looking for the TeenyManolo Sweepstakes? Go here)

It’s that time we all look forward to, time to announce the winner of the Friday Caption Contest.

Bellamama Says:
December 1st, 2007 at 2:13 am

“Take your kid to work day” wasn’t as much fun as Tyrel thought it would be.

Honorable mention goes to Maddy, with something that’s not so much a caption as it is a whole novel in one paragraph!

Ladies, don’t forget your shoes for the imaginary ceremony!

(Looking for the TeenyManolo Sweepstakes? Go here)

Passed along by Spirit Fingers at AYYYY.

Young cowboy Tyrel Benjamin holds on to someone as he rides a sheep during the Mutton Bustin event at the annual three-day Chiniki First Nations Canada Day Rodeo in Morley, Alberta, July 2, 2006. [Reuters]

Yeehaw, we-all around these parts ain’t never seen a case of bad career choice to beat this ‘un. Looks ter me lahk li’l Tyrel Benjamin hee-yar is ridin’ fer a fall! He shud jess finish school and become all accountant-like or sumpin. Nahss hayt, tho.

Or blogger. There’s big bucks in blogging.

Captions in the comments, jest lahk yew-zhew-wul.

(Looking for the TeenyManolo Sweepstakes? Go here)

Yes, it’s that time of the week we’ve all been waiting for: the time when we announce the winner of the TeenyManolo Friday caption contest. Remember our beautifully-dressed baby matador of last week?

gamma Says:
November 24th, 2007 at 12:21 pm

“Good dog, Carl!”

Congratulations to gamma: isn’t this your second win? Maybe we should work on an annual Captioneer’s Hall of Fame. And yes, as Fracas suggests, you should buy new shoes for the ceremony, even if there is no ceremony. Details, details.

(Looking for the TeenyManolo Sweepstakes? Go here)

There is a huge trend in rock tees for kids right now.  And hey, I like rock as much as the next girl.  But some of the choices in rock legends leave me scratching my head as to why you would want your child to go around sporting practically life size versions of these “legends” on their chests.

Sid Vicious?  Girlfriend-beater, heroin and methadone addict, as well as just sort of a jerk?  Not to mention a questionable bass player at that. Sigh. Just because a shirt has the Union Jack and somebody British does not make it automatically cool, my friends.  

Really? Whitesnake?  Did Whitesnake even have any hits big enough that someone is willing to pay thirty five bucks for their tee? Who can even name me one of their songs without having to look it up first? They are one of the only bands who are better known for their videos than their actual songs.

We can start the kiddies off with a rousing version of “Big Balls,” move on to “Highway to Hell” and finish with the classic “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.” As you can see, AC/DC really cared about teaching kids alliteration.

Ah, the holiday season. First it was Halloween. Well, first it was Thanksgiving, but I understand that not everyone lives in Canuckistan like me, and some isolated places have theirs later, for some reason. So, first it was Halloween.

Or Beltane, if you’re of a wiccan persuasion.

So for some rare few, next comes Thanksgiving. But after that, nothing but shopping till December 25th?

I. Don’t. Think. So.

Into the celebratory void have stepped (silently, stealthily) the Ninjas. Ladies, Gentlemen, and the Great Undecided, December 5th is International Day of the Ninja.

Is your family prepared?

Here are some handy resources that you can implement immediately, should you wish to either ninjafy or attempt to ninja-proof (ha! good luck) your household.

For those anti-ninja fighters, we wish them good luck and provide the Ninja Defense Poster:

But for those of you who are pro-ninja, we equal-opportunity bloggers at TeenyManolo are happy to provide instructions to turn yourself or your children into ninjas using nothing more than an ordinary cotton (please, no poly-cotton blends; play safe, boys and girls) t-shirt. Click to enlarge.

Please note careful, ninja-like attention to detail: they have a Christmas tree in the background to tip you off that it is in DECEMBER, not any other month of the year. If you find yourself inspired, you can always make paper throwing star Christmas ornaments out of extra wrapping paper.

And here’s something for all the Jewish ninjas out there: Jewish origami throwing stars!

May we suggest, for your Ninja mask, an appropriate choice of shirt: