When Bratz Attack

Apparently all my efforts (as righteous as they've been) in steering my daughter away from the Pre-K Pin Up set have been the parenting equivalent to farting in the wind.

I've resisted Ryan's pleads for any Bratz item, preferring to wait until she's at least 10 to introduce her to the fashion stylings of Sally Streetwalker, and in doing so have created a monster.

Bratzilla, to be exact. In lieu of playing with a Bratz doll, my ingenious protege has turned herself into one. She's taken to singing the Bratz commercial's song in front of the mirror, posing and pointing and for the love of God, make my daughter stop before she asks for a pole.