To be honest, I find parenthood a lot more baffling that I thought I would. I wasn’t expecting so much talk of butts from my five-year-old, for instance. I didn’t expect Rosie to take great joy in destroying our home and everything we hold dear like some sort of pint-sized Godzilla. I didn’t know I was going to be required to introduce myself to every kid at the playground in an attempt to play matchmaker for Addie, and I wasn’t aware that I was going to have to make sure she wasn’t just putting on a new pair of underwear over top of yesterday’s pair every day for a week.
But one of the accouterments of childhood that I am having the hardest time with is Shopkins.
Shopkins, for those of you not in the know, are inch-high, anthropomorphic representations of common household and grocery items. They inexplicably have giant holes in their butts, for reasons that are never fully explained– maybe Shopkins are supposed to be pencil toppers? Or maybe in the bizarro world that they come from, giant gaping buttholes are de rigeur? I don’t know.
And I mean, I get it. I had my own weird toys when I was a kid. Bears that shoot glee or something from their bellies? Yes, go for it! Armless, legless people who somehow manage to be farmers and airline pilots? Sure!
But you guys, Shopkins are literally tiny, colorful plastic molds of mundane shit you can find around your house. I just can’t imagine a situation in which I came home from a hard day in kindergarten, kicked off my pink Crocs and relaxed with a soothing game of Tiny Vegetables With Faces:
And it’s not just food, it’s literally just anything you could find around your house.
How many wacky adventures can Margarine get into? She has a knife in her head! And lotion soap is just happy to be here. Those two tacos with the girl eyelashes and the mustaches are sending very confusing (but body positive!) messages, although I don’t even really want to think about what is going on with the one that appears to be full of ground yellow meat.
Addie and her friends cannot get enough Shopkins, though. When she’s not playing Shopkins, or organizing her Shopkins, she is scheming new ways to get more Shopkins, most of which involve picking up one sock from the floor, putting it in the hamper, and yelling at the top of her lungs “I DID CHORES YOU CAN PAY ME IN SHOPKINS LET’S GET TO TARGET TIME’S A-WASTIN’!”
Even Rosie has fallen under their spell– I can hear her in Addie’s room right now, actually, playing with the Shopkins set Addie got for Easter. When I was downloading the pictures I had taken of the Shopkins onto the computer, she pointed at them and said “Shopkins!”, which may not sound impressive until you realize that she still thinks her own name is just “MEEEEEEEEEEE!”
I mean, I guess tiny refrigerators and macarons can have just as plausible of adventures as glee-shooting bears or horses with tattoos on their butts. But part of me wonders if I can just slap some googly eyes and false eyelashes onto common kitchen items and try to pass them off as toys. I could really use one of those mixers…