If you want a portion of your munchkin’s modeling porfolio featured in the Friday Caption Contest, just email it to raincoaster at gmail dot com and the image, with appropriate linkage,will be given a spot in our highly-competitive posting queue.
Not too long ago, I was watching televsion. Yes, I have many better things to do with my time, but hush.
Then, this commercial came on:
If when writing this commecial, the people at Playskool thought to themselves, “Let’s film something that will get people’s panties all in a wad!” then they certainly succeeded.
I agree with the basic sentiment of this commercial. I happen to think that boys and girls ARE different.
Go ahead, put your head between your legs and breeeaaaathe. Iiiiin and ooouuuut. Feeling better?
Now before you go pounding your fist on the computer, begin composing nasty emails about the conspiracies behind why the ERA was never passed, or how I am a betrayer of my own sex or whatever, let me explain myself.
I happen to have a son and am myself a woman who was once a girl. I think I have a pretty good perspective.
It doesn’t mean that girls can’t play with trucks and that boys can’t play with dolls. It just means that the main demographic for this toy is boys, plain and simple. Just as the main demographic for My Pretty Pony is girls. There are reasons for this, and the use of the word “different” does not necessarily connote that one is better than the other.
Is the commerical an enforcer of outdated stereotypes, or simply a reflection of our society?
And why is it that I have never heard a peep about the lack of boys in a My Pretty Pony commercial?
*If you would like to see for yourself the controversy I was referring to go here. I didn’t originally link because the site usually requires that you watch an ad, but I thought I would present an opposing view since most commenters are agreeing with me!
You see, in Halloweens past, it was me who basically suggested what he should have for a costume. For the first three years or so, his input was pretty negligible. I mean, the kid could barely talk, so if he had any objections to being Tigger when he was a baby, his articulation needed to be better than “Uuuuuggghhhh.” Really, that could be interpreted either way. When he got a little older, I kept him in deliberate ignorance of all the costume choices out there.
This, year, it’s different.
From an episode of “Arthur” he gleaned the information that Halloween costumes are supposed to be scary. No cute costumes allowed, Mom, I was told. So much for me holding that show in high esteem anymore. He wanted to scare the bejeebers out of everyone that sees him, and after looking through many costumes that fit his description of “ghost pirate,” I think he is going to accomplish that goal.
Actually, I think it scares him a little, he is just too stubborn to admit it. He doesn’t like the makeup as shown, so we won’t do it that way. Maybe just a white face with some black around the eyes. A kinder, gentler dead pirate guy, if you will. Thank goodness the sword isn’t included in the costume, because I think it is a bit over the top. And to think, he has never even seen any of the Pirate of the Caribbean movies.
LolCats meet LolKids: a memetic union for the ages!
Also, this is probably the best place to note that it was just the repressed Englishmen that insisted on the short pants for their boys. The Scots, presumably, realized they’d all have expired of hypothermia if they’d been jammed into hot pants in that climate.
And the lyrics, so you can sing along and perform it at karaoke nights:
“The Mom Song”
Get up now
Get up now
Get up out of bed
Wash your face
Brush your teeth
Comb your sleepyhead
Here’s your clothes and your shoes
Hear the words I said
Get up now! Get up and make your bed
Are you hot? Are you cold?
Are you wearing that?
Where’s your books and your lunch and your homework at?
Grab your coat and gloves and your scarf and hat
Don’t forget! You gotta feed the cat
Eat your breakfast, the experts tell us it’s the most important meal of all
Take your vitamins so you will grow up one day to be big and tall
Please remember the orthodontist will be seeing you at 3 today
Don’t forget your piano lesson is this afternoon so you must play
The bus is here
Come back here
Did you wash behind your ears?
Play outside, don’t play rough, will you just play fair?
Be polite, make a friend, don’t forget to share
Work it out, wait your turn, never take a dare
Get along! Don’t make me come down there
Clean your room, fold your clothes, put your stuff away
Make your bed, do it now, do we have all day?
Were you born in a barn? Would you like some hay?
Can you even hear a word I say?
Answer the phone! Get off the phone!
Don’t sit so close, turn it down, no texting at the table
No more computer time tonight!
Your iPod’s my iPod if you don’t listen up
Where are you going and with whom and what time do you think you’re coming home?
Saying thank you, please, excuse me makes you welcome everywhere you roam
You’ll appreciate my wisdom someday when you’re older and you’re grown
Can’t wait till you have a couple little children of your own
You’ll thank me for the counsel I gave you so willingly
But right now I thank you not to roll your eyes at me
Close your mouth when you chew, would appreciate
Take a bite maybe two of the stuff you hate
Use your fork, do not burp or I’ll set you straight
Eat the food I put upon your plate
Get an A, get the door, don’t get smart with me
Get a grip, get in here, I’ll count to three
Get a job, get a life, get a PHD
Get a dose of,
“I don’t care who started it!
You’re grounded until you’re 36″
Get your story straight and tell the truth for once, for heaven’s sake
And if all your friends jumped off a cliff would you jump, too?
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said at least a thousand times before
That you’re too old to act this way
It must be your father’s DNA
Look at me when I am talking
Stand up straighter when you walk
A place for everything and everything must be in place
Stop crying or I’ll give you something real to cry about
Brush your teeth, wash your face, put your PJs on
Get in bed, get up here, say a prayer with mom
Don’t forget, I love you
And tomorrow we will do this all again because a mom’s work never ends
You don’t need the reason why
Because, because, because, because
I said so, I said so, I said so, I said so
I’m the mom, the mom, the mom, the mom, the mom!!
Manolo the Shoeblogger is not Mr. Manolo Blahnik. This website is not affiliated in any way with Mr. Manolo Blahnik, any products bearing the federally registered trademarks MANOLO®, BLAHNIK® or MANOLO BLAHNIK®, or any licensee of said federally registered trademarks. The views expressed on this website are solely those of the author.