My Research Efforts

In a concerted internet surfing effort to uncover who makes the American Girl dolls, I have located the following:

http://www.coopamerica.org/programs/rs/profile.cfm?id=263

AG is owned by Mattel. Mattel is a known human rights violator at its factories in China. Young women working mandatory overtime in unsanitary conditions for unlivable wages of literally pennies per hour... that's what we are supporting by purchasing their toys. If our country continues to purchase their toys, they will continue to treat their workers this way because WE LET THEM. If we were to boycott their toys and let them know why, maybe they would do something. Maybe the future of these workers depends on us caring.

Maybe I will run for president.

Oh yeah. I'm not old enough.

Dern it all. ;)

Also check out: http://www.chinalaborwatch.org/

American Girl----Made in China

Maia turned 7 yesterday. It's hard to believe, but there was no stopping it. She's not much taller than she was at 6 and still has some trouble saying her "r" sounds. Yet, she's quite the dynamo on the computer, has her own MP3 player and sometimes calls people "just to talk". I guess that means she is 7.

One right of passage as a 7 year old this year was receiving a special gift from my mother. Ever since Maia was a toddler, she would pour over the American Girl catalog at my mom's house and make them read her the descriptions of items. Dolls, clothes, accessories, pets, books, shoes,... you name it and they have it in the American Girl catalog. For the dolls AND for you! It all costs at least a pint of blood and your firstborn's first lock of hair. Naturally, my mother was willing to supply these things (I guess she doesn't care much about that 31 year old lock of hair in the plastic baggy in my baby book anymore--even though it took me two years to grow it!). She ordered a Just Like Me doll for Maia, which has medium brown hair and dark brown eyes just like Maia. It comes with a stand and a book and adorable clothes. She loves it and I can totally see why. I would want one for myself if it weren't just utterly ridiculous and greedy for a 31 year old to have her own American Girl doll.

The doll's hair is very silky and shiny, like she's used a dolly flat-iron on it. It can only be brushed with the American Girl doll brush. Other brushes, says the Care and Keeping of Your Doll tag, will make the hair frizzy and messy. Well, Mimi Peggy didn't get a doll brush and this was a concern. BUT never fear!! I enlisted the help of my Faithful Friend in All Things Girly, Hollie, and she miraculously produced a gift set of American Girl doll brush, hair accessories and jewelry making kit. Voila! We can brush the doll's hair without fear of frizziness or breakage. I know I feel better knowing that this investment toy (because anything that costs as much as this doll cost is more like an investment, don't you think?) will have good hair.

Now, for those of you who don't know much about American Girl Dolls and the whole hype that has surrounded them for at least 10 years now (probably longer)... American Girl Dolls are part of a mega-million dollar business that includes historical, American costume dressed dolls from different eras of American history as well as contemporary dolls that you can order with your own hair color, eye color and features. Yes, they have Black dolls and Asian dolls and Red haired dolls with freckles. You can get medium, light or dark skin. Some dolls have wider noses. Here at the library we have three of the dolls on display next to the American Girl books. That's right! They have their own book sets highlighting girls named Felicity, Kirsten, Samantha, Kit, Josephina, Molly, Addy and Kaya as they grow through different periods of American history and learn to be awesome American girls. It all just makes you want to sign up for the draft it's so darned patriotic and adorable. Reading, learning, growing in appreciation for our nation's history and fashion awareness! What could be better??!!

Oh, actually, it does get better... American Girl has expanded quite brilliantly into a magazine for girls ages 8-12 and even short "how-to" books like "The Care and Keeping of You" about your growning, changing pre-pubescent body and books about how to be a good friend and deal with friendship issues (as we know abound during ages 8-12). The magazine features all kinds of "regular" American girls in super-cute clothes showing us how to make applesauce smoothies and talking about how to host your first Hawaiian Luau Slumber Party. The focus seems to be self-esteem and getting along with others, which is commendable. Maia likes to look at the magazine when she comes to the library.

Who could argue with any of this, right? It's all good, clean American fun. And they're learning... they have BOOKS, after all. American Girl History Mysteries even. Truly.

There's just one little thing that bothers us. And Shad was the first to point this out. Maia's American Girl doll, with it's carefully brushed silky brown hair and gleaming dolly eyes that go to sleep when she lays down, was made in CHINA. China. Where they give up their baby girls because they'd rather have boys. Communist China. Where they pay workers pennies on the dollar and let them work in sweatshops. Freaking China!

Just to be fair, I went to the American Girl website to see if there was any info about why/how these "American" dollies are fabricated in China. Wow, there's a lot of info on the website, including info about the "doll hospital" where you send your AG doll to get fixed up properly should anything traumatizing happen to her (as is possible when little brothers are involved). I went straight to the FAQ section of the website but only found many Q's and A's about ordering, shipping, paying, returning, sizing, gift registry and wish list. Right. Nobody else is concerned about the fact that American Girl items are made in China, I guess.

And, really, what can I do about it? I can't send the doll back now can I? No, I cannot. I can't refuse to buy any more items from AG, either, because I have a sneaking suspicion that we will end up with more accessories for Christmas. So, what is the lesson here? That our country has reached our lowest low and our morals are all completely trash? That capitalism is king and the almighty dollar wins yet again? Probably. It's disheartening. I can't look at "Kelly" (the fine American name that Maia has given her doll) without picturing her in a giant crate on a barge crossing the Pacific Ocean.

You can bet that I'm going to make time this weekend, however, to help Maia make "Kelly" some beaded bracelets. It will be some good girl-time for us and we are indeed American, so in that way I guess we will embrace the spirit of American Girl and try to take back some of what is being taken away from us as a nation on a daily basis: our future.

To 'N'-finity and Beyond!

Nathanael David has learned how to write an N. He is very proud of this and wanted me to show everyone. (Ok, maybe he didn't really ask me to show you, but I could tell by his fervor for this new task that he would like to show you.) He's been writing them everywhere. We put his art project from church on the refrigerator and it now has Ns all over it.

What does this mean for Nate? Well, I guess it means that now he needs to learn ATE and then he will be able to write his name... or at least his "nickname". I'm not betting that the full NATHANAEL will come any time too soon, especially since he can only say "Nafanel" still. He is starting to learn, though, that he has three names and if you ask him what they are he will say "Nate Huddleston David". That's a start, I guess. :)

I love this stage. Three-year-olds are just hilarious and cute and innocent still, as opposed to their senior preschoolers known as "The Four-Year-Olds" who can become even more manipulative and whiney. Three-year-olds are excited by bugs and the moon and want to know just exacly how did God make people AND dogs. Nate is just latching on to this concept of how God made everything in the world, and it is truly precious to watch him think about it and try to wrap his brain around such a big concept.

Here's a classic three-year-old Nate story from this past weekend that I think appropriately outlines all that is the Three-Year-Old Little Boy:
It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon around 4:00m. Nate and I had gone out to swing on the playset for a bit. He is starting to be able to swing all by himself, but he still enjoys the company of Mommy by his side (read: he is a Momma's Boy and must have Momma stand by him even though he can pump his legs perfectly well.) After a while, I retreated to the grown-up swing and just sat and watched him play. He went in the playhouse and came out bearing "dinner" for me. It was a plastic red ball and a plastic baked chicken in a dirty bowl with some sand mixed in. I thanked him and asked him what it was that he had fixed me. "It's chicken and bonatos!" he proclaimed with delight. Right! How could I not know that. Nate is famous for fixing us "bonatos" which we believe to be a mixture of tomato and potato with a little "nate" thrown in. I "ate" the delicious fixin's and watched Nate take up another game of "hunt the wolf" with a stick and a plastic baseball bat. At one point, he actually put the plastic bat under his chin and held it to his chest and successfully climbed up the side of the playset. (And I wonder how, just a month ago, he had a broken collarbone... ).

Nate seemed pretty engrossed in playing pretend (at least it appeared to be pretend as I didn't notice any actual wolves in the yard), I snuck inside to get Shad so that he could spy on Nate through the window and see how cute he was being. The next thing I know, I'm looking out the window and there is Nate standing in the backyard with his shirt pulled up and the front (only the front) of his pants pulled down. He was just standing there staring at his smallish man parts in a mostly perplexed fashion, and I bounded outside to see what was going on. We don't exactly have a privacy fence, after all.

"Nate, what are you doing? Pull your pants up, Buddy."

"I can't! My wiener's getting bigger!" His tone was that of concern, if not outright fear, and I picked him up and carried him inside.

"SHAD! WE NEED YOUR HELP!"

I took him in the bathroom and said "Maybe you need to pee pee."

Nope. Not so much. It was just a different, not-needing-to-pee kind of growth. Shad sort of glanced at it and declared that, indeed, there was "something going on there".

Nate then proceeded to take off all of his pants. His underwear felt funny and was hurting his wiener, he said. Fair enough. We have other underwear. Superman. Scooby-Doo. Sports boxer-briefs even (SO CUTE!). But no, he didn't want other underwear. And he didn't want pants, either. They would hurt. And as Shad and I were trying not to totally laugh out loud right in front of him, he put only his shoes back on and headed for the back door.

I had to stop him, of course. I think we do have to draw the line at playing with NO pants on in the backyard. This wasn't cool with Nate, who launched into a good, solid 15 minute tantrum about wearing pants. He had to go in time-out sans pants. We finally settled on wearing a pull-up because evidently that wouldn't hurt his wiener. I started to fret that he would have an underwear rebellion and refuse them altogether.

Thankfully, the wiener regressed and underwear was acceptable by the time we readied for Kid's Church that evening. I guess we should just be glad the this incident didn't take place AT Kid's Church. :)

And with that I leave you to ponder the bigger question: how on earth will we deal with this when he is 12??