The Bratz have infiltrated our home, and quite stealthfully I might add. They’re sneaky bitches. Beware!

A very good friend of ours stayed with us early this week en route to visit his parents in Illinois. He always brings the girls presents and Miss C wanted to open her present immediately. She ripped open the wrapping paper and was thrilled to find a bracelet kit…a Bratz bracelet kit. She sat at the kitchen table Monday afternoon and carefully made a beautiful beaded bracelet and although I helped her get started, she finished it with just a few bouts of “I CAN’T DO IT MOMMY!” and it is quite lovely. Thankfully the bracelet itself is Bratz bling free. I guess they could have included a mini Bratz doll charm, but I’m not crying over that omission. It’s funny because she immediately shouted “Bratz mommy!!” when she saw the box the bracelet kit came in. I was surprised because I have no idea where she’s seen the Bratz except for a few snippets of commercials on TV. (The Bratz marketing team just shouted a collective, “Woot!”)

I know many people frown down upon Barbie and her very marketable, but unrealistic portrayal of beauty, but we are talking about dolls, not real people. I will, however, take Barbie over the Bratz any day. At least Barbie looks like Miss America or maybe a Christie Brinkley double/California type beauty, not someone down on the corner waiting to turn a trick or a future porn star.

As a child of the 1970s and early 1980s, I can’t recall any dolls that compare to the Bratz sensation although eyebrows were raised over the whole gang of hippies riding around town in a psychadelic van craving Scooby snacks. What were they smoking in that van?