Toy Trouble

Dear Soph,

Every time someone asks me what I want for Christmas I FREAK! I can't think of the bazillion commercials I have watched and decided that is what I need to have the best Christmas ever. So whatever they suggest I just agree to -- STOP I DO NOT WANT CLOTHES, why oh why would I have EVER agreed to that? NO I don't want more hotwheels -- I have over a 100 and have only use I have for them is to throw them in the floor in middle of the night so mom steps on them J - well besides using them to throw at my brother. How do you remember everything to give someone a list?

Dear Toy-trouble,

Tricky. You see, you ARE wrong, but the wrongness is not psychological, but rather neurological. You see, when you feel threatened, the brain function moves from the cognitive part of your brain, the frontal lobe (of course, this part of your brain won't be fully developed for a number of years, so that's an issue already) to your brain stem. The brain stem, also known as the reptilian brain, is where the survival impulse resides. That is to say, it functions only on a flight or flight basis. It is unable to process information in a reasonable way, and, in fact, has no linguistic capabilities at all. So when faced with such an important, life altering question, of course you feel trepidation in your response, and you "downshift" to a lower form of brain function, thus rendering yourself unable to respond verbally or otherwise.

My recommendation? Try using a mnemonic device. It's a little trick to help your brain remember--even when it's reduced to its reptilian state. Here's a popular one. Remember these phrases. "One, bun;" "Two, shoe." "Three, tree;" "Four, door;" "Five, hive." Now then, when you're functioning in your cerebral cortex, the thinking reasoning part of your brain, and see a toy you really want, imagine it connected to one of the previous phrases. Say you want a Rock m' Sock m' Robot. Categorize it as your "number one" item, and picture it clearly in your head attached in some way to a bun. Perhaps the robot is eating a hot dog. Or maybe the robot is actually on a bun. Now, you probably want a Cranium Super Fort. I know I do. File that one as your number two. Visually connect the Super Fort to a shoe by imagining a fort made out of shoes. Continue this process until you have all five slots filled, and the next time someone asks you what you want for Christmas, you should be able to respond accurately and confidently.

Or get Grandma to take you to the toy section at Wal-Mart. That's what I'm doing.

Jenny Tilla

Dear Sophie,

Why are you such a slacker?

I know that I'm not one to talk. I've been slacking so much in my undapants that, frankly, it's beginning to smell a little like saltines and bleach in there. But I'm old and lazy and have a girlfriend who lives 8,000 miles away. I barely have time to sleep, let alone write about my boring life. You, little missy, are young and sprightly and have yet to know the severe agony of waxed genitalia. You should answer a letter or two from your ravenous fandom. They miss you.

Or, if you wanna meet other blogging kids, you should get your baby jungle-rump over to letsliv.blogspot.com. I think you'll be most welcome there.

later, playa hater...

r

fin...

Dear Weird-guy-who-makes-assumptions-about-how-busy-people-are-that-he-doesn't-even-know, and is therefore WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!

You think you're busy??? Let me tell you something mister--the life of a four year old this time of year is NOT EASY. I have to try and be good! Do you know how time consuming that is? It means I actually have to stop and think before I do stuff. Today I started cutting a whole in my sock and suddenly I was like--oh poop--is this going to put me on the bad list? Then I had to come up with something cute--and fast--to get my hiney out of trouble. I told mom I was making her a puppet for Christmas, and she bought it, but just barely. The amount of time I spend picking up my toys has at least trippled. That Santa Clause character is HARD CORE. Did you know that he sees you when you're sleeping and knows when you're awake?

Now then, as you are a fan, and so are at least a little right, let me answer your question. Why have I been slacking? First of all, I went back to school. I'm trying to learn how to read, and let me tell you, it's freakin' tricky. Did you know that my name doesn't even have an "f" in it? I was shocked when I found this out. Shocked and dismayed. Here I was, learning all about the f sound, assuming all along that I would get to write one in my name, but no--I get some bullshit about the "p" and "h" being good friends and when they are together saying "f." Whatever. I think it's a conspiracy to keep 4 year olds from reading. Don't even get me started on the word "light." Then--my stupid mom is back to work too--and has way less time to help me on the computer.

Hang in there. I hope your genitalia feel better soon.

Soph

Preschool Problem

Dear Soph,

Help - I'm starting Pre-School next week. I have always stayed at home with my mommy & little brothers. How do you keep from missing your mom during the day? I'm excited about starting PRE-K but I also don't know how my mommy is going to run the house without me.
Grandma tells me you are a wise wise kid and can help me!

MotherHubbard's #1 Grandson


Dear #1,

Here's the thing little lad--you may not know it, but your mom is going to miss you even MORE than you're going to miss her! Mom's are weird like that. I know! They act all grumpy and stuff when you take the catsup and mustard out of the fridge to paint with them on the patio, but really? They kind of like it. So, what you have here my friend isn't a problem; it's an opportunity. Have fun at school, but don't let your mom know it. Hold on to her legs a bit when she drops you off. Run to her like you've been stuck watching ESPN Classics all afternoon, when REALLY you've been painting and making bitchin' macaroni necklaces and playing with kids and hearing stories and learning new knock-knock jokes and also learning super cool things to say like "No cuts, no butts, no coconuts!" and "I see London, I see France, I see teacher's underpants!" (my personal favorite). Tell her how much you missed her, kiss her on the cheek, and cry just a little. THEN ask if you can stop for an ice cream on the way home. I guarantee this works. Play around with how much you can push. I've gotten tons of stuff this way: trips to the park, movies, snow cones. Every once in a while, you can even finagle a trip INSIDE McDonald's--not just a trip through the drive-through.

Now then, you MAY, from time to time, actually miss your mom. My mom read me this book before I went to school, and we do the thing the raccoons do in it. She kisses my hand before school, and the kiss sticks there. Then, when I need a mommy kiss in the day, I just hold my hand against my face. Oh. I also like to bring her nightgowns to school with me.

Zapping and Sparkling

Dear Sophie,

I have a 28 month-old son who constantly wants to watch the Wiggles. I am trying to convince him that playing is much more fun than sitting in front of the TV, but he won't listen to me. Do you have any advice?

Sincerely,
The Mother of Zardo Zap's Biggest Fan

Dear TMOZZBF,

Oh, you poor, poor woman. Apparently you have been cursed with a son who is acutely accuracy challenged. ZARDO ZAP??? That green skinned freak gives me the willies. She’s so weird she doesn’t even have lyrics in her theme song. Everyone knows that Wags is the supporting character with the mojo on that show. Shit—Zardo is ALMOST as lame as these guys--and they're best known for doing a farting dance!

As for the TV watching—here’s something my mom pulled on me when I was little—before I knew what she was up to. Unplug the TV, and tell him it’s out of batteries. I know—I know. How much more devious could a mother get—praying on my lack of knowledge about electric currents and the like. BUT it worked. Also—hello—have you been to the toy department at Wal Mart lately? You can’t throw a tantrum in there without hitting a Wiggles toy. I recommend the Wiggly Wiggly Guitar. It’s noisy, pointless, and very bright purple. Do toys GET any better than that?



Soph,

At what age do you think it is okay for a kid to hold a lit sparkler? I say they must be in school and old enough to light it themselves. However, my daughter thinks that 4 years old is old enough. What do you think?

Dear…,

Well, you weren’t wrong to withhold your name—avoiding all the hate mail and the like. I guess I’ll just call you the Sparkler Nazi. Geez lady! We’re not talking about a bucket of napalm here. Plus, I know 17 year olds who can’t light a sparkler! Now—I’m not suggesting that you prop a sparkler up in the baby’s bouncy seat, but let’s get real. If a kid is old enough to hold a lit sparkler, she’s OLD ENOUGH TO HOLD A LIT SPARKLER. Obviously give her room to swing it around without lighting anything on fire—and keep a hose handy. Otherwise, let the sparklin’ times roll!

From Soph's Cousin

dere sopie, HELP! I have a B-DAY comeing up son wat cake !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

madie

Dear Madie,
(My mommy read your question to me, then typed exactly what I said for the answer.)
Mmm. A Bell. Like I had a Cinderella one? But lellow. Or a panfer. Really lelly deedly. Wis the Beast. It will look like a brown panfer. Have you met Bob? He's the hampster. Bob the hampster. Bob the builder! Can we fix it? Yes we can!

Love,
Sophie

Birthday Blunders

Dear Sophie,
I'm planning a boy's birthday party and he's having 13 guests. One doesn't like pizza at all. One doesn't like the red sauce on pizza. One doesn't like cheese. One doesn't like chocolate. One doesn't like hot dogs. One doesn't like peanut butter. What should I serve them for dinner?

PS: The cake is chocolate.

Signed Frantic Mom with Hungry Boys

Dear Crazy Lady,

Sorry to be so harsh, but GEEZ! You are so wrong—it seems impossible—but you are so wrong that you might be more wrong than my mom! First, you are apparently allowing your son to have ALIENS over to this party (Doesn't like CHEESE?!?Doesn't like CHOCOLATE?!) . Next, you're asking me advice for a party but DIDN'T INVITE ME! Now--you may not know this, but when one kid says to another, "Fine! Then you're not coming to my party!" weather she's actually having a party or not, it's about as bad as you grown ups pointing the tall-man finger at each other. Finally, ok, I get that the 4 of the 6 the major kid food groups are out (pizza, mac 'n' cheese, pb&j, and hot dogs). But--have you forgotten the 2 groups that make up the bulk of the kid's food pyramid? CHICKEN NUGGETS AND FRIES LADY!!!!!! If you really want to be a hit, spring for Happy Meals. If not, you do know that you can buy chicken nuggets at the store in all kinds of fabulous shapes--yes? Throw in some Zoo Pals with sauce in the ears, and your party problems are history. As for the non-chocolate eating kid, I see that as a bonus. More cake for me. Wait. I’m not invited. Fine! Then you're not coming to my party.

Potion Problems

You’re Wrong: Ask Sophie is written by Sophie Gene, potion maker extraordinaire, and liberator of top shelf sweets and treats. Sophie has known that she is right since she was a zygote. Now, almost four years later, she is ready, willing, and able to share her rightness, and your wrongness with the world.

If you're wrong, which, duh, you probably are, send your questions to Sophie Says at yourefreakinwrong@gmail.com. Or, if you'd rather, leave your question in the comment field.

**************

Dear Sophie,

I am a W.I.T. (witch in training) and noticed your brilliant applications of every day items in making tea. Any thoughts on potions?

Yours truly,Natasha Isabella Trudeau
(N.I.T.W.I.T.)

Dear NITWIT,

Wow! Another letter from someone who is just simply not wrong. I may have to change the title of my column. You are 100% right in coming to me for advice on potions, as I am, truly, an expert in this subject. Now, most witches ARE wrong in assuming that a potion must suit some particular, sometimes magical purpose. (Whew. You ARE probably wrong. The name stays.) You see, the beauty of the potion is in the making. It’s the process, not the product on which one should focus. Potion making is actually a very advanced Zen application. That said, here are my two most recent potions.

Potion 1: Backseat Boredom Banisher

This one really was brilliant, if I do say so myself. The true way to judge the strength of a true potion maker is looking at what she can create in extenuating circumstance. So check this shit out. I had been strapped to a chair for like, 4 hours (and if that isn’t child abuse, I don’t know what is), driving with Mom and Dad to Salt Lake. One would think that this would not be an especially potion-friendly environment. One would be wrong. I whined for like 90 minutes until Mom broke down and bought me a little can of Cheezy Pringles. What she didn’t know was that I had absolutely no intention of eating them. Instead, I dumped half of them out on the seat, and ground the rest into a fine powder. Then I added a few raisins and a few pieces of broken crayon. Add to that a couple of squirts from the water bottle mom always gives me while we’re on the road and—Voila! I can always judge the creativity and true bitchinness of my potions by Mom’s reaction. She said at LEAST 4 words that she won’t let me say, and 1 that I haven’t even heard yet. A success.

Potion 2: Faux Fluff Fixer

My Grandma Buddy ALWAYS has marshmallow fluff in her pantry. My stupid mother on the other hand, does not. Another way to judge the mastery of a potion maker is by how she gathers her ingredients. Sometimes combining only 2 ingredients in the right way can result in the best potions. Now—I’ve mentioned, I think, that marshmallows are top-shelf items in my house. That means that even with one of my little chairs, I can’t reach them. Today, after being told AGAIN that we have no fluff (will she ever get the hint?) I decided it was time for serious action. I dragged my old dolly high chair out of my closet and into the kitchen. (After waking mom up at 5:30, I was pretty sure she would be too tired to notice what I was up to. I was right.) Well friends, I did it. I reached the marshmallows. After dumping the bag into a pot I had liberated from the cupboard earlier and adding some milk (I LOVE being able to open the fridge. Nothing, not even spankings or time-outs will keep me from the fridge. This I swear.) I squished and stirred until I had a pretty close imitation of marshmallow fluff. I know. I know. I’m the bomb.

Berry, Berry Wrong

Dear Sophie,

So what is the big deal about Strawberry Shortcake? She's a pastry! And you may not know this, but she started out on a greeting card!

Thank you,
From a mom of only boys...

Dear Boys' Mommy,

Hello?! Did you hear yourself? SHE'S PASTRY! That shouldn't require any additional explanation, but as you are obviously living in a state of unmitigated wrong, I'll elaborate. Strawberry Shortcake and her gang of deliciously named and smelling pals combine the two best things on the planet: toys and sugar. You've probably been out of school for a while, and don't remember the pie-thagorean theorem, so I'll jog your memory. Toys=Bitchin', Sugar=Bitchin', Toys+Sugar=Double Bitchin'! Also, unlike most dolls made for little girls, Strawberry and the gang are actually little girls. Most dolls made for little girls are little girls dressed like whores or big girls dressed like whores.


Hi Soph,

I have an 18 month old daughter. I like to dress her in clothes that look like mini versions of big lady clothes. she even has painted toenails and wears flip flops. many of the kids in her daycare class still wear things with winnie the pooh on them or onesies with stretch pants. am I dressing her too old for her age? I'm not putting her in streetwalker clothes, just not shirts with seashells on them. is that so wrong?

Signed,

concerned mama

Dear Mama,

On the wrong-o-meter, you're actually not doing too badly--maybe about a twoteen or threeteen. See-you're making the mistake most moms make. Weather your poor baby girl is in Pooh-bear or the latest jeans from Baby Gap, you're still subjecting her to the torture all parents inflict on their kids: YOU'RE MAKING HER WEAR CLOTHES!!! Now, I ask you, is there any activity a baby engages in that is better in clothes than out of them? Eating? Nope! Do you know how hard it is to get peanut butter in you belly button when you have to get around a onesie? Plus--think about it mom, what's easier to get syrup off of? A baby sized angora sweater or a naked baby belly? Is playing better with clothes? Pu-Leaze! All that cloth totally gets in the way when climbing, crawling, and trying to get a ride on the dog. Toothbrushing? Clothing only limits the brushing to the teeth, when the time could be much better used as an all over body brushing. The toothbrush is way overlooked when it comes to reaching those hard to reach areas, if you catch my drift. Do both yourself and your girl a favor--instead of wasting money on useless crap like clothes, get her some Floam. Have you seen that shit? Plus, I'm guessing (because I don't HAVE Floam even though I wish for it EVERYTIME I see the wishing star or blow out candles) the Floam could double as pants, in a pinch.


Dear Sophie Says,

I got poop in the butt
I got poop in the butt
Poop poop poop
in the butt

Poop come out of my butt
poop come out of my butt
crayon, corn, m&ms and peanut butter
poop come out of my butt

Poopypants, poopypants
I got me some poopypants
Poopypants!

Signed,

Pooped


Dear Pooped,

Ok. What I'm hearing here is a cry for help. Obviously such an insightful and inspired poet as yourself is in need of someone to just understand and listen to the plea. I hear what you're saying, and I feel the same way. You are, of course, wrong, but only in doubting the veracity of your decision to be among the unwiped. Wiping is such a drag. You may have noticed that my mom is pushing me to get my MBA (Master of Butt-wiping without Assistance). Personally, I'm thinking of just dropping out and starting a Pixies cover band instead. So you don't wipe. So what? A little itchy, but all in all, I agree with you that wiping is highly over-rated. It's just the man trying to keep us down, turn us into little butt-wiping automatons. I have it on good authority that the Toilet Paper Producers of America have a huge lobby in Washington. How else can you explain those commercials with the cartoon bears wiping in the woods? The pro-wipers who produced that propaganda are irresponsibly and obviously targeting potential wipers in our age demographic, what with the cartooniness of them and the fact that they pray on our inexperience in scatology and woodland creatures. Say it loud! Say it proud! I don't wipe and it's allowed!