It’s a busy afternoon around here. Maggie is asleep, and her two older brothers, one of them with a 101.8 fever, are very busy going through the Toys R Us and Target inserts and deciding what they want for Christmas, circling their selections with two different color markers. Of course, they pretty much circled everything on every page, especially if its suggested manufacturers’ retail price is $49.99 or higher.
“You’re choosing some expensive stuff,” I murmured, looking on.
“Why are you talking about how much stuff is?” Connor asked. “Santa’s elves just make everything. They don’t have to pay for it.”
I started a rejoinder about how perhaps the materials themselves, for a sleigh full of $49.99 toys, might be a little pricey for Saint Nick, but trailed off quickly, since the more we talk about Santa these days, the more holes Connor finds in my story.
Then the boys paged through their catalogs and pointed to what they wanted so I could type it all in for easy Amazon search later. This is what I want to know: who at these toy companies is in charge of naming things? Because they’re just farting around, basically.
Exhibit A: this is on the top of Connor’s list.
Seriously, what the hell. “Mon Calamari”? Sounds like a Italo/French seafood joint. Seamus, on the other hand, wants the Cars Race-o-Rama Lightning McQueen Stunt Jump Speedway. Try saying that three times fast.