On Rarity and Pretty Pop

This weekend I took the girls to wander around a department store so that Colin could spend some time working in our garage on yet another busted car CD player. I found the advertised frying pan that was sixty six percent off and then headed to the DVD section to look for the least mind numbing children's show that we could watch forty thousand times consecutively. It turned out that the only thing that peaked their interest were My Little Pony movies. I hightailed it to the toy section with promises to expand their collection so I wouldn't have to suffer through the saccharin escapades that include evil songs from the dark side. I've had "My Little Pony, Is full of baloney" stuck in my head for days now.

Pony from something blue on Vimeo.
Why not fill up your pretty head with a little song?

I try not to buy toys and treats every time we leave the house in fear of raising Veruca Salt. We have warned them that if they get everything that they want, the squirrels will determine that they are bad nuts and toss them aside. There is nothing like installing a bit of fear of small, wild animals to keep your children in line. That didn't prevent Strawberry from having a mini meltdown deciding which pony she wanted to add to her collection.

I am thankful that I am not made of money because I have a hard time not buying everything that they fancy. I have a habit of stockpiling toys for gifts. I put many items in closets for future celebrations and pat myself on the back that my daughters will have more values than the Hilton sisters. Before Christmas, Strawberry spied a play veterinarian kit in our basement. This was how it came to be the present she gave to her little sister.

Somehow Buttercup has decided that these medicals tools are actually for being a tattoo artist. She has given me dozens of imaginary tattoos which is a hundred percent more than I currently have. Mamatulip asked me back in November if I had any tattoos when I was looking for content for NaBloPoMo. Obviously I am easily distracted. This mild diversion reminds me that the Ring Toss was a gift from my mother-in-law.

I did go to a tattoo parlor last year with some ideas and talked to an artist but I never went back in to get inked. I don't know if it's because I am not sure exactly what I want on my body. (Forever… which is a mighty long time.) Plus I am not sure about placement. There is not an area of my body that I necessarily want to draw attention to. I remain a blank canvass for my daughters to practice creating sleeves of many a multicoloured prancing Pegasus and dancing unicorn.