My daughter is glued to the TV like a barnacle these days, announcing “I wish I had that,” and then, “I wish I had that” every two seconds as the generous spirit of Christmas sinks its greedy talons into our daily programming. I suppose I could avoid this by not having the TV on at all, but ha ha, not in this lifetime. I haven’t even thought about starting my holiday shopping, which is probably not smart, but that’s always been the way I roll. Last minute central.
I could only hope she didn’t ask for one of those wretched Zhu Zhu pets, which as the big must-have item of the year is sure to be out of stock by now. As far as I can tell they are some sort of robotic rodent mutant variant of a cat toy on wheels and a train set. I can’t figure out if they actually do anything, though to be fair the same could be said of real flesh and blood hamsters.
I’ve seen them in person, and I don’t get them at all. They don’t even look like real hamsters. They don’t bite, they have all their fur, they don’t leave little piles all over the place. I haven’t heard mention of them in our house, so I figured I was safe.
But I was wrong.
Apparently my daughter was observing them in action on TV with my husband while I was gone on my trip, and she casually mentioned to him that she might like one. He kind of nodded like he always does, giving the old “mmm hmm” response.
Then she went for the jugular.
“Daddy,” she said, angling her head. “Those hamsters don’t die, do they?”
Well, she’s got me there. Maybe robotic hamsters should be on the list after all.