I Know All The Ponies


I know all of the characters’ names from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. This is not by choice. Nor is this a boast. I have a three-year old daughter. Of course, means I am exposed to My Little Pony on a daily basis. Also, for some reason my brain chooses to retain any and all information concerning My Little Pony. I know all the main characters’ names. I know what their “cutie marks” are. I know what a “cutie mark” is. I know that Princess Celestia was replaced by a double before her very own wedding. I know that Twilight Sparkle, since her promotion, is what’s known as an “alcorn.” I know what an “alcorn” is. I know way more about ponies than any non-fan should ever know.

But it’s not just ponies either. My daughter also likes Lalaloopsy dolls. Lalaloospys are supposed to look like rag dolls with button eyes. And they do… sort of…well, as close to rag dolls as a giant four pound hunk of plastic can look. Remember the movie Coraline? You know, where all the evil characters had creepy unblinking button eyes? Well, imagine that, only now there’s one staring at you while you poop because your daughter left one in the bathroom. It’s terrifying. If that thing decides to murder me I have no recourse but to scream and pray I don’t die mid-kerplop.

Being a father to one little girl means my life consists of mostly wading through piles of naked Barbie dolls and fairy wings. Seriously, what is it about the young female mind that causes them to immediately undress any and all dolls within reach? More importantly, why doesn’t this behavior carry over later in married life? “But Adam!” you might say, “Why play into all the stereotypes? Get her some boy toys to even things out!”

Don’t be an idiot.

First off, getting a girl boy toys in the hopes of “defying stereotypes” is a little bit like taking a man to women’s retreat and hoping he doesn’t look at boobs. Second, I have taken my daughter down the boy’s toy isle many times. Each time I hope, beyond hope, that she’ll want to buy a Transformer or a Star Wars figure or, heck, even a Mighty Morphin Power Ranger. But no. She regards boy toys with the same disdain that I have for country music and vegetables. I would be more than happy to buy her some boy toys if she wanted because – dang – playing ponies and creepy murder dolls is boring.

Usually when I play ponies or murder dolls I change my voice so that I sound like a life-long smoker or Batman. My daughter loves this. It’s still not terribly entertaining though. I have toyed with the idea of buying myself a Transformer just to see what kind of shenanigans Twilight Sparkle and Optimus Prime could get into. No doubt many lessons about friendship would be learned. Also tea parties. Tea parties with Optimas Prime. I can’t think of anything more awesome than that.


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