Target Through the Eyes of a Ten-year Old

My new bff, Avis, asked me if I would mind taking her to Target this weekend to help her buy school supplies. I said, Sure! I will take any excuse to go to Target. So, on Saturday, I gave her mom my cell phone number and made sure we were buckled in and off we went. Avis was a very observant and careful passenger. She let me know when the light was green, when another car was coming, when I'd missed my turn, etc. She also brought with her a special edition of People magazine with Hannah Montana on the cover. This was foreshadowing.

We made it to Target (she found the parking spot), grabbed a cart, and started toward the kids sections. We found the school supplies--the folders and notebooks she needed--and then had to decide which of the 500 Hannah Montana notebooks she wanted. Until this trip, I had no idea how prevalent Hannah Montana is (insert "TM" here, as she's not really a "she." She's an "it;" a product). You can buy the follow things embossed with Hannah Banana Fo-Fanna Montana: pencils, pens, t-shirts, shorts, pajamas, slippers, lunchboxes, sheets, bedspreads, pillows, cameras, backpacks, purses, hats, jewelry, headbands, i-pod covers, underwear, socks, Band-aids, water bottles, furniture, and bicycles (to name just a few). By the time we left, I was even wearing a Hannah Montana bandanna and fanny pack. It was everywhere. That and High School Musical and this new rage, Camp Rock Band or something, starring another prevalent product, one of the Jonas Brothers. Avis herself purchased: 3 HM folders, 2 HM spiral bound notebooks (to match the one she already has), and was seriously considering a HM lunch bag, even though she eats the school lunch. I bought her a black HM t-shirt which she refused to try on first. My only worry is, what if that whole HM thing is out by the time she starts school (next week)? She has nothing else to accessorize with (she can't wear the clothes b/c she goes to a Catholic school).

I might be misremembering, but I don't think we had those kind of kid stars on everything when I was growing up, at least not mass-marketed like that. Some kids wore Disney stuff, I'm sure, but they were also the ones who got tater-tots thrown at their heads during lunch. We had a different kind of fashion pressure; the pressure of Nike sneakers and designer jeans and Lacoste shirts, none of which I ever really had, except my friend Wallis sometimes gave me her cast-offs. I do remember once I got a purple t-shirt from Key West with a drawing of an alligator on it and I wore that all the time. I thought it might seem like it was similar to the Lacoste gator. I was wrong.

On an unrelated note, caught part of this new reality show the other day, it's called I Can't Stop Having Babies. It's the story of a modern day Mormon family (oxymoron? Oxymormon?) with fourteen to twenty kids. The mom and dad got married when she was 17 and he was 19 and then they had baby after baby. The oldest is now 16 (time to get married!) and the youngest is a couple of months (to be married in five years). All of their names start with the letter "J." (Jebidiah, Jemima, Jermaine, Jello, Jeneva, Jen-nay-nay, Jorgie, Jorgi, Jason, Jackson, Jeopardy, Jo-Mama, Jolisa, Johannesburg, Jig-Jig, and Jangles-bo). I found myself unable to watch the show because it made me so angry. Like, why should I care? Okay, I'll tell you why I care, the girls were in pioneer dresses and churning butter! The mom with the cornflower blue, brainwashed eyes said, "People always ask me why I have so many kids and I say back to them, How could you ever have too many precious chirren? Each baby who drops out of my womb is a gift from Jesus Chirst of the Latter Day Saints and I love all of them when I can remember who they are." Adopt. Adopt children that don't have homes. Don't continue to populate the earth. Yes, Vagina, you can have too many kids. P.S.: this photograph is the actual family. I didn't create the tag line; someone else did. This is why I heart google image search. You realize you are not the only one...

Here's something funny Padhraig said this weekend. Carrie, he, and I were driving back from Germantown and we passed a sign that read, "Gravedigger's Ball." I said, Oh, look at that. He said, That's rubbish. They're aren't enough gravediggers in Philadelphia to warrant a ball.