Behold, The Power of Branding
My daughter is so American. She has already been brainwashed by the powers of consumerism and branding, at the ripe age of 2.9 years old.
Even though we don't frequent McDonald's, she proclaims "FRIES!" every time we pass the Golden Arches.
An announcement of "Nuggets" greets the sight of Chic-fil-a.
And anytime we are in the neighborhood of a Target, a joyous "Red Store, Daddy!" greets me from the back seat.
It's even gotten to the point where she threw a minor fit last week when we had to drive past the Red Store to get to an actual grocery store. She insisted on Red Store. I was like, "they don't have groceries." She didn't care.
So I thought Elli would be thrilled on Monday when I had to swing by Target. But as I get ready to unbuckle her from her car seat, she protests.
Elli: No. I want the other Red Store.
Me: What other Red Store?
Elli: The Blue Red Store.
Me: There is no "Blue Red Store". The Red Store is by definition, red.
Elli: Definition red?
Me: Yeah. Let's go.
It then dawns on me that my daughter isn't just rambling incoherently. I start to connect the red dots and blue dots.
Me: Do you mean WalMart?
Elli: Yes.
Granted, Elli answers "yes" to 90% of the questions we ask, regardless of whether or not it's the factually correct answer. Nonetheless, it seems reasonable that she is referring to WalMart.
Me: We don't go to WalMart. We're Dashiells.
Elli: Ok.
I thought about explaining to her that the stance isn't elitist. I thought about explaining globalization and WalMart's habit of crushing small-businesses in little towns. But I thought better of it. No need to raise a jaded child.
Though I am a little worried about the standards we are setting for the future. It's easy to not go to Walmart in the city. But if we ever find ourselves living in rural Kansas, we will be challenged. Because WalMart has effectively choked out all competition in the region, and we will thus be forced to purchase a combine so that we can manufacture our own wheat-based toiletries.
Renew and Restore
Even though we don't frequent McDonald's, she proclaims "FRIES!" every time we pass the Golden Arches.
An announcement of "Nuggets" greets the sight of Chic-fil-a.
And anytime we are in the neighborhood of a Target, a joyous "Red Store, Daddy!" greets me from the back seat.
It's even gotten to the point where she threw a minor fit last week when we had to drive past the Red Store to get to an actual grocery store. She insisted on Red Store. I was like, "they don't have groceries." She didn't care.
So I thought Elli would be thrilled on Monday when I had to swing by Target. But as I get ready to unbuckle her from her car seat, she protests.
Elli: No. I want the other Red Store.
Me: What other Red Store?
Elli: The Blue Red Store.
Me: There is no "Blue Red Store". The Red Store is by definition, red.
Elli: Definition red?
Me: Yeah. Let's go.
It then dawns on me that my daughter isn't just rambling incoherently. I start to connect the red dots and blue dots.
Me: Do you mean WalMart?
Elli: Yes.
Granted, Elli answers "yes" to 90% of the questions we ask, regardless of whether or not it's the factually correct answer. Nonetheless, it seems reasonable that she is referring to WalMart.
Me: We don't go to WalMart. We're Dashiells.
Elli: Ok.
I thought about explaining to her that the stance isn't elitist. I thought about explaining globalization and WalMart's habit of crushing small-businesses in little towns. But I thought better of it. No need to raise a jaded child.
Though I am a little worried about the standards we are setting for the future. It's easy to not go to Walmart in the city. But if we ever find ourselves living in rural Kansas, we will be challenged. Because WalMart has effectively choked out all competition in the region, and we will thus be forced to purchase a combine so that we can manufacture our own wheat-based toiletries.
Renew and Restore