Pink Aye-Yai-Yai

     Last Saturday, Clara went to a pirate-themed birthday party for a member of our playgroup, a little girl named Hendrix.  The night before, I went to Walmart to get a present for Hendrix.  I could not have imagined the pink and purple gore, the sequins and plastic gemstones, the gluttony of long, silky pony hair, that awaited me in the aisle reserved for girls' toys.
     Believe it or not, apart from books, we have never bought Clara a single present.  She has never needed one from us. As the first grandchild on both sides of the family, she has been showered since birth with everything a baby girl could dream of.  Among other things, there's the basketball hoop and play kitchenette; dozens of stuffed animals and baby dolls; Disney DVDs; a big, gorgeous toy box monogrammed with her name; a set of intricately-detailed miniature animals.
     I haven't been in the toy section of a store since Ken doll, Barbie's boyfriend, wore the collar up on all his shirts.
     I was stunned and overwhelmed by Walmart's girls' toys section.  It was like someone had barfed Pepto-Bismol, there was so much pink in that aisle.  There were dolls that looked like anime characters, dolls that sang and lit up, ponies that came with hair driers and brushes (and hair extensions that would make the Kardashian sisters swoon).  Stuffed, battery-operated dogs walked, barked, and came with their own brushes. I saw something I hadn't seen before: chubby baby versions of Disney's Snow White, Cinderella, Rapunzel, etc. There was something arachnid about the baby princess' plump, squat bodies with their strangely adult princess heads.
     I confess, a very primal, little girl part of me was ecstatic looking at all the glimmering, pastel deliciousness in that aisle.
     Thankfully, Clara was home with Simon.  Otherwise, both of us would have been "glamored" beyond remediation.
     For Hendrix's gift, I settled on a baby pony (unicorn?) named Sweetie Belle.  When you squeeze Sweetie Belle's hoof, she says, "Sweetie Belle hungry," or "Sweetie Belle sleepy." Maybe I should have been annoyed by Sweetie Belle constantly referring to herself in the third person, but I only felt enchanted. Unable to stifle the urge for more pink, I bought pink Hello Kitty wrapping paper with pink and purple ribbons, and a giant purple card with pink and purple ponies inside.  It was exhausting.  It was exhilarating.