It seemed innocent enough. She overcame challenges.  She was bilingual.   She exceled at sports.  Dora, the star of the Dora The Explorer TV series, was a decent role model for my young children.  It was a TV program with educational value, along with well-intended, clean cut characters. 

But then, it started.

“Can we get that Dora beach towel?”

“Honey, don’t you think we have enough towels?”

“Look, mom! Dora’s in that Lego set!”

“We have plenty of Legos at home.”

Dora dolls, Dora purses, Dora sippy cups, Dora puzzles, coloring books, watches, nightgowns, stickers, and the list goes on. I couldn’t walk down the dairy aisle of the grocery store without running into a yogurt container that had Dora’s face on it. 

The other day at breakfast, my 6 year-old Little Dude asked me how Dora's picture got on their cereal bowls.   

“Toy companies want to sell things that have pictures of Dora on it because everyone loves Dora,” I say.

“I want a picture of Dora on everything!” declares Hot Sauce, my 4 year-old.  

“Not so fast,” I warn. “Before you make a Dora toy or put her picture on a cereal bowl, you have to ask permission from the people who own Dora.”

“Who owns Dora?”  The Little Dude asks.

“Uh,” I stumble.  “The TV people.” 

“You can’t make Dora toys whenever you want?”  The Little Dude seemed deflated.

“No, buddy. You have to get approval.”

“That’s no fair,” he laments. Because when you’re my Little Dude, the world should have free and open access to Dora, Diego, Sponge Bob, Ninja Turtles, and the characters from the Cars movies, no questions asked.    

Miss F, my 8 year-old chimes in.   “Like Mommy always says, everyone is just trying to get everyone else’s money by selling you things you don’t really need!”

I have taught her well! 

The Little Dude does not like where this is going.

“But I need my toys.  Please don’t take them away.” He holds onto the Dora cereal bowl tightly.

“I’m not going to take them away, Dude, but there are things I want you to understand so that you can be an educated consumer.”

Miss F. rolls her eyes.

“Mom, he doesn’t even know what that means.”

“And now is a perfect time to explain.”

The conversation has led me to a teachable moment.  I can feel it!  It’s that moment when the tone is right to unveil a life lesson, that moment that you can’t force but that just comes. It is that moment when your child is primed and open.   The moment for me to teach my son about marketing and consumerism is now.  I sit down next to him.

“When you watch TV, the toy companies put on commercials to advertise toys and games that they know you will like.”

“Like Ninja Turtles?” my Dude asks.

“Yes, buddy, like Nina Turtles.  But here’s the thing.  Commercials are written in a way that will make you think your life is missing something because you don't have what's on the commercial. They try to talk you into thinking that you won’t be happy until you that that toy.”

“But I am missing something, mama.  I lost my Francesco Car from Cars II.  Remember?”

“But you’re happy even though we can’t find Francesco, aren’t you?”

He hesitates. “Mama, if we can’t find him, can you buy me a new one?”

“Of course, buddy, but you do realize that even if I said “no,” that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.  Those commercials are written to make little kids believe that parents who love their children buy them Francesco cars and Ninja Turtles action figures and Dora Candy Land. But that’s not what love is about.”

“Ooooh,” says Hot Sauce. “Mommy, can you get Dora Candy Land?”

“Candy Land!” squeals the Dude.

“Candy Land,” all three chant.  As they chant I hear the delight in their voices, because what is better to a child than having the face of his favorite character on a board game?

So much for teachable moments.

Namaste, Divas!

© 2012 Ilene Evans