Pinkie Pie and Tap Shoes

I think there's some kind of hideous Karma going on here.

See, I was the kid who filled up her free time by shooting blunt-tipped arrows with an old longbow into the haystack. Who caught and "raced" gardner snakes with the boy next door. (I seemed to have lots of trouble with snakes. I got kicked off the school bus for trying to bring a snake on board (hint which the bus driver didn't seem to know: snakes are quite flexible, and fit easily into purses with zippered pockets.) I would never run screaming at grade school when one of the boys would shove a snake in my face. In fact, I was more likely to follow and hound him for the rest of recess. "Can I hold it? Can I see it? Pleeeeease? I'll give it back, really! I just want to hold him!") I drew lots of space pictures of various futuristic space vehicles shooting down stone obstacles and in general blowing stuff up (this, in fact, was frequently done in front of a Dr. Who show...circa 1978 or so for you aficionados). I liked thunderous fireworks, had no qualms about getting dirty, and while I did like various forms of "fashion," my taste tended less towards pink frillies, ribbons and bows and much more toward denim and black. I went to one Girl Scouts meeting with a friend and deemed the whole organization a complete waste of time, as it seemed to be mostly about singing some kind of little daisy song and trying to look like a flower. ?!?! Why would anyone want to do that?

My two-year-old daughter, on the other hand, is showing increasingly alarming proclivities towards cuteness. The bad kind of cuteness. Evil cuteness.

Some amount of cute is normal...I expect minor fascinations with jewelry and some amount of dress-up clothes, a fondness for flower bouquets, this sort of thing.

But I'm rapidly finding myself in Subgenus kind of cute...a sort of pink-laden, glossy, preteen, cotton-candy kind of cute. A cute that comes up with names like "Rainbow Dash," "Minty," "Sunny Daze" and ... (gulp) "Pinkie Pie." (For those of you who don't have to live in Ponyville, the magical realm of My Little Ponies, be happy.) These are some of the most disturbing behaviors:

1. She loves to have her fingernails painted. Ok, so everyone goes through that when they're about 14, but she's NOT EVEN THREE YET!!!

2. She wants her own makeup. Yes, really. She asks for it, she gets the whole concept, and she's really quite into it. Yesterday she was opening up the "treasure chest" on one of our board games and scraping off the gold glitter inside so that she could dust her cheeks with it. "I jus' want look fancy," she says. How could she possibly know about body glitter??? I don't have body glitter!

3. She loves the idea of a vanity. We were at a kids' resale shop looking for winter clothes and there was a little vanity sitting there, with a star-shaped mirror on top, and decals on countertop made to look like various makeup brushes and such. She marches up to it, squeals in delight, sits down and promptly pretends to pick up the brushes and dust her face, put on eyeshadow, lipstick, even clips on a pretend watch...and with such practiced efficiency, it was truly horrifying.

4. She has requested her own bra. Seriously! (Seriously?) She's sitting there on my lap and she says she wants "what you put on after your shirt." So I'm completely lost at this, and ask if she wants a vest. This ticks her off, and she immediately assumes her Angry Face. (Did I mention the temper like a solar flare yet?) She repeats "after your shirt" several times and finally tries tugging my t-shirt up while saying something about "nursies." (Tip for future moms: be very careful about what words you select to convey the concept of breastfeeding to your baby. They remember, and it can come back to haunt you in the worst of ways, LOL!) So now I'm pretty stunned and I say, "Do you mean a bra?" She just lights up. "YEAH! May you get me a bra? Just my size?" She's quite disappointed that bras aren't manufactured for two-year-olds. Still not willing to give up on the idea, she will come across a bra display at Wal-Mart or a department store and she'll say, "Ooooh!" and rush over and start squeezing all the padded bra cups. (This has the one added side benefit of getting to gauge the store clerk's reaction. Some get a big kick out of it while others appear to be completely mortified.)

5. She's begging for Gymnastics and Dance lessons. Oddly enough, though, she strictly FORBIDS the mention of ballet. I'm not sure what kind of dance lessons she has in mind, but they have nothing to do with classical music, of that I'm sure. Her most recent plans are for her to be a "dancer" for Halloween. ?!?!? She also terms all of her white sandals with an ankle strap "Dancing shoes." Admittedly, they look a tad like taps...but how could she know that? She doesn't have friends who tap dance. (Her mother sure as hell doesn't tap dance! Yikes. Makes one think of certain scenes from Fantasia.)

So we seem to have a makeup-crazed, fashion-forward toddler who is itching to take gymnastics and dance lessons. I live in fear that she will one day see hip-hop style dancing and decide that the whole Bratz movement is where she wants to be. (For those not in the know, Bratz is a new-ish line of dolls with pouty expressions, puffy, collagen-injected lips and hooker-chic fashion. They take the definition of "sexualized toys" to new realms.)

Oh, and in case you might possibly have missed it, there is a strict Bratz ban on at this house. It's even more severe than the Barbie ban. Which is also troublesome, as some people are of the belief that a little girl can't live without a Barbie.

If you absolutely can't help yourself, try something in the new line of Disney Fairies. I might allow those in my house, whereas the other two would be headed for a very fast return trip to the toy store.