This year for her birthday, the kid decided she needed a “prince” doll. (And no, she did not mean the guy who has changed his name to a symbol and sings Raspberry Beret…because I’m pretty sure she has no clue who that guy is). She meant a boy doll, who would be the prince to Barbie’s princess. I mean, when you’re 6, every princess meets a prince and they live happily ever after, right?
Plus, she needed a boy doll that could get pretend married to Barbie and live in their pretend house and all that good stuff. I tried to tell her that Ken would just leave dirty clothes all over the place and then dirty up all the pretend dishes and then refuse to load them in the pretend dishwasher until after his hunting show is over….but she still believes in fairytales. And who am I to quash her dreams of the perfect man?
So, I put the grandmas on the Ken doll hunt for her birthday. And, of course, because they’re grandmas and have like superpowers when it comes to their grandkids, they totally came through.
Ken had arrived!
Barbie was positively breathless with anticipation!
The perfect hair, the chiseled features, the blue eyes and 6-pack abs (not to mention, bendable legs! (Sidebar: Is it just me or is that a totally random selling point??))! The All-American boy, worthy of apple pie and baseball!
Except what she got was this:
Since when did Ken go from “All American” to “Jersey Shore”?
Great…now I have to work on convincing Barbie to not marry Ken because he’ll probably spend all their money on Ed Hardy and spray tans. Plus, he looks like a total douche because, really? Who wears popped collars?? That like totally went out with the 80s. Not to mention, her dad will freak out when she brings home a punk-ass looking kid with more Axe body spray than brains.
Parenting girls these days is tough.