Catalog Kids: Aliens in Your Mailbox

A strange thing happened to me the other day. I opened my mailbox and discovered that aliens had taken over. Trust me, they're in your mailbox too. In fact, you've probably already brought the aliens into your home-and you may have already recycled them.

You see the aliens are in the children's clothing catalogs.

I know it sounds weird, but how else do you explain the fact that in all of those catalogs there are pictures of little boys playing football and not one-NOT ONE-is dirty? Please. These are boys. They are playing football. Dirt is part of the game.

If you don't believe me, grab a catalog and look at the pictures. Those boys have to be aliens. Real boys don't stay clean five minutes after they've taken a shower, let alone playing football. Not to mention that getting a real boy into the shower in the first place requires an act of congress or the threat of never seeing their Wii again.

And it wasn't only that the boys were clean-their clothing was also perfectly pressed. They were wearing ironed cargo pants, for Pete's sake. I was completely shocked. How many times have you ever seen a group of football-playing boys that were clean AND unwrinkled?

Never, of course. That's why they're aliens.

The boys even had perfect hair. And not just because it was combed, either. It was because their hair wasn't sticking up in twenty different directions because there is so much gel in it that combs will no longer penetrate the gel/hair barrier. And, did I mention that the aliens in the catalogs had clean hair? How often does that happen in households with real boys?

Of course, it's not just the boys that are aliens; it's the girls, too. I have evidence. Look, several of the girls were dressed in fluffy pink dresses, standing next to a boy and they were smiling. Yes, smiling. While standing next to a boy. Have I mentioned that I find this shocking?

But that's not all.

You see, in a few of the pictures, there were two little aliens, who looked like siblings. The brother alien had his arm around the sister alien. And neither of them were crying, making rabbit ears or screaming into the camera, "Mom, he's touching me!"

I'm telling you, those aren't real children. Real children do not allow their siblings to touch them at all. If a real brother put his arm around a real sister, she'd punch him out, not smile for the camera.

Even more frightening was my realization that every single catalog I've ever received has these alien children in it. Even the furniture catalogs. I mean, how scary is it to look at pictures of children's rooms where everything is neat, clean and picked up off the floor? It gives me the shivers just to think about it.

I think the worst thing about these catalogs is that it gives parents false hope. We look at the aliens, frolicking in the park together or playing quietly in their tidy playrooms and we believe that it's possible. That siblings can play together without fighting. That one day our sons will wash their hair and comb it.

The truth is those things will not happen in our lifetime.

That's why I am going to start a catalog for real kids. The clothing in my catalogs will spring from the dryer, fully wrinkled. I may even add some pre-set stains, just in case there are boys who actually know that shirts aren't napkins. The shoes will already have the laces torn out and they'll have been squished into dog droppings about twenty times so they smell just like real kid's shoes.

And as for those girls, they won't be shown in pretty little princess outfits, with their hair all curled and in bows. They'll be real girls, in tennis shoes, torn jeans and haircut she did herself, ready to slug her brother if he comes within 5 feet of her. Of course, not one picture will be taken in a playroom that doesn't look like "Toys R Us" exploded in it.

That'll give those alien-filled catalogs a run for their money.

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About Manic Motherhood: Laurie Sontag is the author of the popular humor blog, Manic Motherhood and has been a humor columnist for California newspapers since 2001. If you can't find her there, check under the sofa. She's not there, but she likes it when somebody else tries to find the lost socks and freak out the dust bunnies.