Monstrous ideas

I asked Sprog 1 what she wanted for her birthday a few days ago. She said: “Draculaura”. I said: “We’ve talked about this, you can’t have a book that teaches you how to be a vampire.” She said: “It’s not a book, Mum. It’s a doll.” I said: “Oh, a doll …” Sprog 1 has never liked dolls. Ever. She got a baby doll when she was little. Never played with it. She got a dolls’ house when she was slightly bigger. Never played with it. She got various Barbies over the years. Never played with them. I even gave her the handmade doll’s wardrobe I’d lovingly kept from my childhood, filled with fabulous, handmade ’70s Barbie dresses. Bored. I was obsessed with Barbie when I was a kid. I ached for a Barbie campervan. I made do with a cardboard box with wheels drawn on it in Texta. Not Sprog 1, no interest. So I was intrigued by this doll she wanted for her birthday. I popped into Toys R Us to check it out. Draculaura is a vampire doll. She has fangs. She goes to a place called Monster High and has a friend called Frankie B. Stein, who is blue and covered in scars. She has another friend who’s the daughter of a sea monster and lives in a bubbling jar of water. Sprog 1 really wants her too. I forget what she’s called, but when I scanned her barcode, I discovered she costs $99. Seriously. $99. Not happening. But Draculara has me stumped. She’s on special this week for $17.99. But she’s pink. She has pink skin, pink-streaked hair, pink clothes. Sprog 1 hates pink. I clutched Draculaura for a few minutes, debating whether to buy her or not. Could Sprog 1 really want a pink doll? I put Draculaura back and went home. Yesterday, driving to school, I double-checked: “So, Sprog 1, what did you say you wanted for your birthday?” She instantly replied: “Draculaura”. I’m like: “Draculaura is pink you know.” She’s like: “I know.” Sprog 2 pipes up: “I want one too!”. I say: “Ask for one for Christmas.” She says: “No, I want all surprises for Christmas.” I say: “Well I’ll ask Santa in my letter.” Both Sprogs are like: “Whaa?” And I say: “Didn’t you know Mummy writes to Santa? I tell him all the things you’re not allowed to have that you’ve put on your list.” Sprog 2 is unfazed: “Well, I’m not having a list. I like everything.” Sprog 1 says: “What if you got a rotten cabbage?” Sprog 2 replies: “I’d love it.”. Sprog 1 says: “What if you got a dog poo?”. Sprog 2 replies: “I’d love it.” Mummy says: “That’s enough.” But I digress … the big question remaining is: why are there vampire dolls for little girls? The other big question is: Should I be worried that my eight-year-old wants one? And, sorry, and one more big question: Am I insane to be considering buying one for her?

TONIGHT’S MENU: Ooooh, another big question … better think … ummmm … it’s coming to me … Got it! We’re going to the night noodle markets in the city. Mad idea. Insane traffic. Nowhere to park. Vast queues at every stall. No tables. Usually rains. But I don’t have to cook. Yay!