What is with this trend of kid toys announcing their every activity to the world?

What brilliant VTech product engineer decided that the electrical functioning of their toys should be governed by the same principles that govern the mind of a 3-year old? Compare for yourself:

3-year-old child: “I’m going potty now. Potty. Potty. Hey, I need to go potty now and now I’m washing my hands. I’m washing my hands now. I’m washing my hands because hands need to be clean…”

Wondro The Talking Electro-Toy: “Hey, I’m shutting off now! OK? I’m shutting off. Oh, I didn’t ask you… did you want me to shut off? Yes? OK, I’m really shutting off now! Goodbye until next time! Power… shutting… off… now… No… now! No… now!”

Yeah, you’ve got a few of these at home. You might as well be talking to another child.

You know it’s bad when you talk back to the thing. “OK, Wondro The Talking Electro-Toy, that’s enough chatter. OK, ok. Alright then. Yes, just go to sleep now. That’s plenty from you.”

You can cook corn on the cob in the microwave!

Did you know this? It reminds me of some kind of crackpot idea from one of those microwaving cookbooks that almost, I say almost, seem like a good idea. It sounds right up there with making brownies in your microwave. Sure, I can make something akin to what you get with a Swanson’s Hungry Man dinner but why would I want to cook something in the microwave that was merely passable at best?

No, no it’s not like that though. Cooking corn on the cob in the microwave is actually as good or better than being boiled like you’re used to. Alisa’s family has been doing it for years. I’ve always thought you had to boil corn. That’s just the way it was. But here are instructions with pictures. I’m told you don’t even need to do the water soak. Crazy stuff.

My daughter loves the corn on the cob. I got her going with it over the 4th holiday and it’s her favorite vegetable format of late. At least she’s been suggesting it at a lot of meals since.

So I made some in the microwave again the other day. One whole ear for each of us. She ate row after row as much as a 3-year-old can and then declared she was finished and handed it back to me.

And just at that moment, with her handing her remaining ear of corn to me, I had this full circle flash in my head of handing my corn to my dad when I was little. Because that’s one thing that dads do. Dads finish your corn. It’s part of the dad code you know.

So I make this cake for my daughter’s 3rd birthday (with my assistant on scales application duty and excess cake piece disposal). I show it to her the next morning:

Her: A fish!
Me: But what kind of fish?
Her: It looks like Rainbow Fish.
Me: Looks like? It is Rainbow Fish!
Her: Yeah, it is Rainbow Fish.

Like it’s something I’ve convinced myself into. If ever there was a Rainbow Fish in cake form, this is it. Come on now.

The problem presented by making a cake in the shape of a fish is where is it appropriate to begin the first cut? The natural place is before the top fin so it kind of looked like I was chopping off Rainbow Fish’s head in front of the children. They didn’t notice but it still felt weird.

At one point, I unknowingly asked if anyone wanted “a piece of tail” and immediately received snickers from the parents. Come on now.

It’s an interactive feature! My daughter wants to tell you the joke she’s been perfecting with me over the past couple of weeks. I think it is ready to unleash on the world:

Her: Click Here
You: Respond accordingly.
Her: Click Here
You: Respond accordingly.
Her: Click Here
You: Laugh accordingly. Now. You will laugh at my daughter’s joke.

I recently got my daughter a little wallet with a built-in change purse, bill fold, and photo holder. She loves it and carries it everywhere. I gave her two dimes and a nickel to get her started with her change purse part of the wallet and she put them away and ocassionally checks on them to make sure they are there.

So I’m sitting on the sofa the other day and she comes up to me and we have this brief exchange:

Her: “Daddy I need more money for my wallet.”
Me: “Oh yeah?”
Her: “You give me more money?” Reaching for my pocket and squeezing.
Me: “I don’t have any more money right now.”
Her: “Oh, you get more money.”

So this is how it starts then?

The alpine slide, to a soon to be 3-year-old, has to be the best thing in all the world. Take what most kids consider to be the best part of any playground and then double, quadruple - no, let’s multiply it by oh like 500 or something - and let ‘em loose. It’s a year’s worth of playground sliding bundled up in one minutes-long span.

I envision my daughter just sitting on playground installations now, staring off into space, telling other kids that the 10-foot descent “just doesn’t do it for me anymore.”

Why would a three-year-old girl need low-rise panties? According to the Hanes Web site, they have “…to feel right. Can’t be scratchy. Nothing that fits funny. Has to be stylish. No babyish designs. Ignore her wishes, and it will collect wrinkles in the bottom of her drawer. These hipsters, though, easily make the cut, even with her exacting standards.”

Oh, they totally forgot that my baby girl wants to make sure her panties don’t show with all the exposed hip and navel action she’s displaying with the 1/2″ inseam shorts she prefers in the summer. My daughter and her girlish exacting standards.

OK, how about mini-boyshort underwear? They sell mini boyshorts for three-year-olds at the store! Oh yeah, I forgot that my daughter, just the other day, expressed her desire to feel the sexy feel of boy briefs against her skin but in a cut that’s all three-year-old hottie. And to have cheese. What she said to me was, “Daddy, I want the sexy presentation of mini boyshorts and a piece of cheese, please.”

I didn’t think toddler panties came in anything but utilitarian-style and with slogans other than “Like Grandma’s Only Smaller” or “Covers You Amply.” Apparently, I was wrong.

Scene: After spending some time looking at various animals on the laptop, my almost-three daughter agrees that we should look at space images.

Me: “What’s that?”

Her: “That’s Saturn and the rings and they go around and around.”

Me: (showing photo of Jupiter) “That’s Jupiter. Jupiter has a big spot.”

Her: “I don’t like Jupiter.”

Me: “OK, here is Mars. We landed a robot on Mars.”

Her: “I don’t like Mars.”

This goes on through all the other planets until I review:

Me/Her: Mercury?
I don’t like Mercury.
Venus?
I don’t like Venus.
Earth? How could you not like Earth?
I don’t like Earth.
Saturn?
I don’t– Hey, I like Saturn.

Scene: My daughter is eating her berries across the table from me. She starts saying something but there’s definitely some gibberish noises thrown in there.

Me: “I don’t know what you just said.”

Her: “I don’t know either.”