Miss C asked Santa for a Bratz Kidz Ice Cream Maker Snow Village last year but strangely enough the elves ran out of them.

This year she’s still talking about the ice cream maker and since her belief in Santa lies precariously in the balance, I asked Santa to pimp, I mean, pony up. Thankfully the ice cream maker doesn’t come with a hot tub or a Bratz dude masseuse doll to help work out those sore post skiing muscles.

I don’t really have an all out ban on Bratz products, but we don’t have any Bratz dolls in the house as we’ve conveniently avoided them. I do think the Bratz dolls look like mini strippers, though, so I’m quite content that Miss C enjoys playing with her Barbies. The Barbie movies are inspiring and full of girl power and lovely classical music tracks. Barbie also has high career aspirations. She’s been a poop scooper, a veterinarian, and a teacher. The Bratz? Their claim to fame is Botoxed lips that need their own zip code, a wardrobe that is the envy of the Pussycat Dolls, and I suspect they have mad pole dancing skills.

The dilemma is Miss C is at that age where she’s going to start the downhill slippery slope to disbelief in Santa. She’s already been asking me very pointed questions about how Santa does the whole travel around the world deliver gifts to children thing and why there are different Santas on duty each year. I know how her mind works and she will be crushed if she doesn’t see the Bratz ice cream maker under the tree in a few weeks. Because her request is more about a girly ice cream maker, than a Bratz doll, I’d been leaning toward finally making her Christmas wish come true. Plus the Bratz Kidz line seems like a kinder, gentler, less sluttier version of the grown up Bratz dolls. Since there will be a halt on future Bratz, perhaps this will be an heirloom to pass on to another generation. I mean who needs another Madame Alexander doll?

Last weekend after a bedtime story we were talking about Christmas and Miss C’s eyes got wide and she said very seriously, “Mommy, you know what I want for Christmas?”

I braced myself. I knew she was going to talk about the ice cream maker. AGAIN.

“A trampoline!”

Trampoline…one word guaranteed to strike fear in the most neurotic of mothers who envisions taking her child to the ER.

That was the clincher. I couldn’t get to my laptop fast enough to bid on, and win, a Bratz Kidz ice cream maker snow village on ebay last night. Thankfully the doll that comes with it is fully clothed.

Does anyone have a number for a Bratz hit man? This doll has a lot of pressure on her to be on her best behavior, otherwise she may disappear.