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My four-year-old is an advertiser's dream come true.

If you mention the word "subway," she'll shout, "eat fresh!"

The other day I gave her a Dannon fruit smoothie. Specifically, it was the "Danimals" product -- a smoothie for kids. She drank it down, wiped her mouth and yelled:

She is also quick to inform me that certain products are "only available at Toys-R-Us," or "only available for a limited time."

But perhaps her biggest product obsession so far has been with the Sham Wow, a super-absorbent towel sold via infomercial.

Many month ago, I ordered the Sham Wow, intending to give it to someone else. But I accidentally ordered two boxes, so we kept a box for ourselves.

Claire was fascinated from the get-go. "What's that box?!" she asked when we saw the delivery on our doorstep. I was like, "Oh, that must be the Sham Wow."

Both kids were highly impressed by the name. After all, it has the word "wow" in it. They demanded to know more.

"It's a super-absorbent towel," I explained. "It soaks up a lot of water."

We took a few out and examined them. They looked normal to me, but the kids were awestruck.

We tried them out. Water was absorbed. I was like, "Oh good, they work." But the kids remained astounded.

After that, any time a drop of water fell to the ground, they would yell, "Get the Sham Wow!!"

Then they caught part of the infomercial on TV, and this took things to a whole new level. Now they weren't only dealing with a product that had "wow" in its name, they were dealing with a product that had been featured on TV.

It was almost too much for them to take.

Paper towels, napkins, even cloth towels were totally useless. Annoyingly inferior. The only acceptable option was the Sham Wow. Claire even walked around holding one, in case of a spill.

After a few weeks Kate moved on to other crazy obsessions, but Claire's dedication to the Sham Wow remained steadfast. She would play in the sprinklers, then appear at the kitchen door dripping wet. I would hand her a beach towel and she would say, "No, Mama! I need a Sham Wow!" And indeed she would use it to dry off.

When she got out of the bath, she wanted to use a Sham Wow to squeeze the water out of her hair.

She would look up to the sky and shout, "Santa! I need more Sham Wows for Christmas!"

And she would tell her friends, in a low and serious voice, "We have Sham Wows. Do you want to see one? They soak up so much water."

In retrospect, I should have seized the moment and pitched her as a spokeskid for Sham Wow. But I waited too long, and eventually her passion for Sham Wows ebbed. Now she will use one if it's around but otherwise she's fine with normal towels.

Opportunity lost.

The kid's got potential, though. If she's enthusiastic about a product, there's no stopping her. And obviously she can recite jingles with the best of them.

Maybe she could pitch the George Foreman Grill? The ThighMaster? The Snuggie?

The Life and Times of Weezer Pinko

Last Thursday, Kate discovered an imaginary friend. His name was Weezer Pinko, and he communicated to her via her belly button. (I know. Weird.)

“Mom!” she yelled. “Weezer Pinko is talking to me!”

I was like, “That’s great, Kate.”

Then she looked down at her belly and asked:

She listened for a moment, then announced:

I was like, “No. I can’t manage that.”

But Weezer Pinko was undeterred. In fact, his demands grew even more outrageous as the afternoon wore on.

Even Kate seemed exasperated by some of his requests.
Then a strange thing happened. (OK, stranger thing.) Later that afternoon we stopped by my optometrist’s office so I could get my contacts. While we were there, Dr. Petersen gave Kate a balloon.

Back in the car she studied the balloon closely. Then she excitedly announced, “Mom! THIS BALLOON IS WEEZER PINKO!” She hugged it and said, “I love you Weezer Pinko!”

I was trying to follow this. "Weezer Pinko left your belly button and took the form of a balloon?" I asked. This seemed far-fetched.

"Yes!" said Kate.

Then, predictably:

We got home (with no help from Weezer Pinko), and Kate left him in the car so her sister would have NO access.

The next morning, Kate was overjoyed to see her friend. She went to camp, and when I picked her up, she told Weezer Pinko about her day. Back at home, we got out of the car and Kate started to bounce Weezer Pinko in the air. Up... down... up... down...

She was full of joy. I can only assume Weezer Pinko was as well.

Then… disaster struck.

In the blink of an eye, Weezer Pinko was dead.
This didn’t go over well.
I had to drag Kate into the house. She crumpled to the ground, sobbing “WHY?”

I tried to console her, but it was no use. Finally, I left her there and started making dinner.

A good 20 minutes later she was still going strong. I checked back in and found her making pronouncements such as:

No, she’s not dramatic. Why do you ask?

At this point I wasn’t sure what to say. So I just asked, “Did Weezer Pinko have any… last words before popping?" I said. "Like a final request?”

She looked at me, her face soaked with tears, and without missing a beat she said:

“He asked for a jet pack."

A jet pack. To propel him into the air... away to safety. Kate looked into the distance. Then closed her eyes and said it one more time: “A jet pack.”

Poor Weezer Pinko. In his dying wish, he finally got it right.

Camp Starbucks

Last Saturday I woke up early and went downstairs. I thought I was the first one awake, but when I rounded the corner I saw Kate and Claire sitting at the kitchen table. Totally dressed. Hair brushed. Eating breakfast. I was like, "Whoa."

"We wanted to surprise you!" they said. "We did everything on our own!"

Again:

What the heck was going on here? I wasn't sure, but I knew I liked it.

Suddenly I was reminded of a goal I once had when Kate was small. I had wanted to train her in the art of coffee making. So she could get up, toddle downstairs and make a pot of coffee before I woke up. Yes, she was only three. But still, I thought it could work.

I got this idea from my friend Brandy. One morning years ago, when her son was three, he appeared with this announcement: They reacted kind of like this:

Sure, their son loved to help scoop coffee grounds into the coffee maker, but no one had ever walked him through the end-to-end process of making a full pot.

Cautiously, they made their way downstairs. And there in the kitchen was a full pot of coffee. Eleven cups. Brandy's husband mustered the courage to taste it.

And he reported:

When she told me this story, I made a mental note to teach Kate how to make coffee. But then I forgot all about it. Hmmm... now that the kids were getting up early and taking care of everything, surely they could make coffee as well. Right?

I relayed all of this to my friend Kathy on Saturday afternoon.

"Forget the pot of coffee," she advised me. "Sign them up for Camp Starbucks."

"WHAT?" I replied. "Does that exist?!"

"Not yet," she said. "But it should. Here is my vision: The kids go away to camp for a week and learn how to brew and mix espresso, properly clean a counter, and make light conversation."

I could picture it clear as day. "Yes," I whispered.

I imagined the benefits this camp would provide.

---- BEFORE CAMP----

----AFTER CAMP----
----BEFORE CAMP----

----AFTER CAMP----
----BEFORE CAMP----
----AFTER CAMP----

Kathy continued: "Then, at the end, they graduate and receive the green apron."

"Of course," I said. "They get the apron."

Kathy had worked out many of the details, but unfortunately she had not secured a "green light" from Starbucks. We would likely need their approval and participation in order to make Camp Starbucks a reality.

So now it is up to me. I will carry the torch forward. Next time I visit Starbucks, I'll pitch the idea to whoever helps me. This will get the ball rolling for sure.

Do Not Answer That!

You might recall from my post about rock-paper-scissors that Kate, my 7-year-old, is... shall we say... somewhat competitive.

For example, anytime I ask Claire (age 4) a question, Kate has to jump in and answer it all triumphantly. I'll say, "Claire, what is one plus two?" Then Kate will shout "THREE!!" from the other room.

So here's what went down the other night.

We were talking about Claire's friend Emma, who was having a birthday party. And I thought of a question to ask Claire.

I knew that Kate would be all over this, so I issued a stern warning.

Then I said, "Claire, do you know how to spell the name Emma?"

As soon as Kate heard the question, she registered the answer in her head.

She was marshaling every ounce of willpower, trying to keep the answer inside.

Claire, meanwhile, was considering her answer.

At this point, Claire couldn't help but notice that Kate was somewhat eager to answer the question herself.

I encouraged Claire to keep going.

I could tell that she was starting to milk the situation. She has spelled "Emma" before, but suddenly it was taking her a long time to come up with the letters.

Meanwhile, next to her:

Kate could barely hold it together. In fact, she didn't really hold it together at all.

And, wouldn't you know it, Claire suddenly remembered how to spell the name!

As soon as Claire delivered the answer, Kate (nearly catatonic on the ground) burst out yelling, "E-M-M-A!!" over and over.

After a while, it degenerated into just "M."

I shook my head, then turned to Claire. "Well, what do you think of that?" I asked her. Claire brightly proclaimed: