She Reports. You Decide.

My daughter's ideas for the American recovery.

1.  The deficit.  Buy more Zhu Zhu pets.  They are manufactured somewhere in China.  If we import more Jillys, Pipsqueeks, and Num Nums (but not Mr. Squiggles, he's on a terror watch list), we will bolster China's ability to continue to buy our debt.  Sounds plausible.

2.  The economy.  Now that the dollar is completely worthless, merchants and retailers will begin accepting Chuck E. Cheese and Peter Piper tokens as legal tender.  When pressed, she did not have an answer for whether or not merchants would also be required to accept skee-ball tickets.    

3.  Clean energy.  "I like to have on all the lights, dada."  We will continue to leave on every light and television, day and night, thereby increasing our demand for our nuclear-generated electricity.  Ok, the end may justify the means.

4.  Jobs.  "You need to go to work, dada, so we can get money and coins."  Spoken like true management.  Labor obliges.         

5.  Healthcare.  "I don't like going to the doctor.  Kids don't need to go to the doctor."  I'm not sure I agree with that.  

Wait...oh my God.  I think my daughter is a Republican.  

The Rat King

Look, I try to limit the amount of Chuck E. Cheese pizza, Fox News, and lead paint my children ingest. But I am only one man, one dada. I have been known to turn a blind eye to the occasional booger eating, but I cannot save them from every toxic evil.

Today, we purchased our first of what is sure to become a horde of Zhu Zhu pets. And if you couldn't guess from the name, the creatures are minted in China. Turns out when the Chinese are not busy filling our toothpaste with cadmium, they are filling Mr. Squiggles with antimony. Luckily, my kids know never to touch antimony without an adult present, so she skipped Mr. Squiggles and picked out the pink (of course) Zhu Zhu, Jilly.

Audrey enjoyed playing with Jilly. But Jilly, like Mr. Squiggles, has a dark, dangerous secret. Jilly crept up to my unsuspecting daughter's hair and lept onto her head. After the crying and computerized hamster-shrieking subsided, we were left with Jilly ensnared in the kid's hair, like some sort of giant motorized rat hairball. It wasn't until I was cutting out the rodent that I noticed the "may pose an entanglement hazard" sticker on the belly of the beast. Right.

So we bought her a heavy-metal laced entanglement hazard. Yes. And it keeps her occupied for hours.