She's a Boob Girl. Obviously.

Since I don't yet live in perpetual fear of the kid, I recently decided to hand her scissors. Sharp ones. But before I teach her how to run in traffic while holding the scissors, I figured I would help her put together a scrapbook of our Disney trip. I started by printing all of my photos from Orlando, as well as all of the ones that Alexis took with her camera.

In total, there were over 600 photos, so I didn't really look at them until Alexis and I were sitting on the floor cutting paper and searching for the perfect photo for each page. Once I really looked at those pics? I promptly noticed a pattern.

I have in my possession at least 20 photos just like that one.

If I ever find myself in need of photographic evidence that the cousins were looking mighty good when I was in my 30's, I've got it. And how.

Parent of the Year Right Here

As Alexis and I sat on the couch pouring through photos from Disney World, the clock struck 8:00. I knew that I needed to change the TV channel, but the remote was waaaaay over there, so instead of finding more mundane (but kid-safe) viewing, I just let it be. I am L-A-Z-Y. Plus, we were pretty focused on our mission of finding our favorite photo of Mickey Party, so I wasn't too terribly worried that some grown-up show was on. The TV was nothing more than a little bit of background noise, the sort of soundtrack to our evening.

It took Alexis and I about 10 minutes to find it, but we finally decided on our favoritest photo of her and Minnie Mouse dancing. As I worked my way over to photo editing software, I heard the word come blaring through the TV speakers.

"Bitch."

An isolated, loud curse.

Well, OK, so I don't particularly find that word to be offensive, but it's not really a word that I need to have in Alexis' vocabulary. She already does a sufficient job of fighting with her daycare best friend (one minute they are hugging, the next they are beating the crap out of each other until they are separated and put in time out), and I can just imagine how well Alexis yelling, "Knock it off, bitch!" would go.

As a litany of four letter words and panic streamed through my head, Alexis pondered the word her alert little ears had heard.

"Bitch?" she said hesitantly.

"Bitch," her confidence increased.

My head exploded. I desperately tried to shove piles of crap out of my way so that I could get to the remote before the language could get any worse.

"Bitch? Bitch. Bitch! BITCH!" Alexis continued to try the word on for size.

"Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch!" apparently she really liked how the word fit.

Finally, I made my way to the power button on the TV, and then carefully adjusted my facial expression as I turned to face Alexis.

She hadn't noticed my freak out.

She was too busy playing with her new word.

*Phew!*

I can only imagine just how fun she would have thought the word was if she had caught the OMG-I-CAN'T-BELIEVE-YOU-JUST-CUSSED-I'M-GOING-TO-HELL look that was on my face when she first dropped her little bomb.

Now, let's just hope she FORGETS about her new little word for a very, very, very long time.

Dora's Drama and Cajones

By now you have most certainly heard about the train wreck that is Dora the Latina Whore and her makeover. I definitely heard about it because apparently if you make it publicly known that you hate the big-mouthed brat, lots of people will send you information about her. Which is FANTASTIC!

For reals.

If it weren't for awesome peeps and their mad emailing skills, I would have totally missed all the hoopla. It seems that the very second the vague silhouette of the "Tween Dora" showed up, people got their panties in a wad. The blogosphere quickly filled with rants and complaints and even a petition demanding that Mattel leave Dora alone.

Every second of it made me laugh. And wonder.

Why all the concern?

Y'know, there was a time when I actually *whispers* kind of liked Dora. She started out as an independent little gender-bending kid who didn't care if her clothes matched, if people stared at her for talking to a monkey, or if her adventures were a bit silly. Then she slowly morphed into something a bit more "girlie." Her eyes magically sprung longer lashes, she started doing princess stuff, and her wardrobe took a decidedly girlie turn.

I wasn't a fan of the minor revisions.

And so, I ended the Reign of Dora in our house. I banned her merchandise. I deleted her from the DVR. I gave her a big ol' shove and *poof* she was gone.

At first, Alexis was very unhappy with me. We're talking about Category 5 tantrums because there was no Latina Whore to play on the TV.

My response? "That's nice." I'm the parent, and I decide when a character's ability to annoy me has outweighed that character's ability to be a productive member of society. Considering I paid a lot of money for a piece of paper that says I speak Spanish, I know I'm the one who should be teaching my kid a little Spanish. Not some ridiculous TV character.

So, I don't really get all the uproar over Dora "growing up." If you don't like her new look, don't let her into your house. And if a kid gets mad about it? Grow some cajones, yo.