Dolls

While the munchkins were out at a birthday party this afternoon Brenda tumbled in through my front door claiming that she had organised an end to all of my Christmas gift giving woes (I actually completed all of my shopping on-line weeks ago)! Brenda produced what she described as “the ideal Christmas gifts” for my darling boy Max.

I am one of four sisters. My mother was not blessed with boys. She constantly makes the mistake of referring to Max’s action figures as “his dolls” – any mother with any sense boys will immediately see that she is not endearing herself to big boy Max for this regular faux pas…

Anyhow, Brenda has been to her local Christian shop, and purchased Christian Action Figures for my little man. She has bought him quite a selection. “I actually ordered them months ago” she thrilled. “Sr Kevin had to order them in specially as she didn’t have them in white” – she gushed. “Indeed mother, it would never do for Max to believe that Jesus or The Blessed Virgin were not white Caucasian Europeans – would it?” – Brenda doesn't 'get' irony.

Somehow, looking at these figures this evening, I have an idea that my perfect testosterone fueled boy will indeed enjoy playing with them. I must admit, I imagine my darling will not stick to the biblical version of events. Eve is dressed like Raquel Welch in One Million Years BC and looks altogether much more like a heroine than The Virgin Mary. She looks no fun at all.

Goliath is every inch the obvious hero, and is sure to pound his wimpey opponent David to a pulp before driving off in Max's Tonka Truck. This idea of Brenda's is destined to end in disappointment...