MARK MY WORD: FRGET BIG SWEEP; BARBIE'S IN FULL SWING

Some birthday presents literally can sweep you off your feet.

Mitchell O'Hearn's friends and family gave the 2-year-old boy 10 used vacuum cleaners for his birthday last month.

O'Hearn lives in Wisconsin, where vacuum cleaners are almost as popular as the Green Bay Packers.

Still, O'Hearn's gifts were unusual enough to warrant the attention of The Associated Press, which wrote a story about it.

Stories like this grab your attention when you're a parent.

Parents don't want to know about the inner workings of Congress or the latest round of Middle East peace talks. They want to know important things: How are Chelsea's grades? Does she ever get grounded and told to keep out of the Rose Garden?

As to the Wisconsin birthday gifts, they included a hand-held vacuum as well as an industrial-strength model.

O'Hearn, it seems, was a colicky baby. Vacuum cleaners helped calm him down.

He no longer is colicky. But he still loves the "whoosh" of the machines.

The AP story didn't say whether the O'Hearn house is cleaner because of all the vacuums. Somehow, I doubt it is.

Kids aren't interested in cleaning the house. They prefer to have their toys spread out all over the place, turning your home into an obstacle course.

My daughter, Becca, had colic. We tried the vacuum cleaner too.

It helped some, but she never took a liking to the machines. Joni and I are lucky that way. We don't have to get the vacuum out of the closet.

At age 3, Becca prefers tea parties with her Barbies rather than vacuuming.

I don't think there is a vacuum cleaner in the world that can pick up all her toys without breaking down.

The other day, Becca's Barbies were having a party on the living room rug.

Ken and John Smith were entertaining about a dozen, hard-bodied Barbies, while I tried to watch the Rams' football game.

It isn't easy to follow the game while your daughter is waving Barbies in your face.

Chris Miller is back to pass. He throws a ... What's that? A Barbie sails past my TV screen, obscuring the touchdown pass.

Becca admonishes me for not opening the imaginary door and inviting a few more Barbies to the celebration.

In addition to the Barbies, there are marbles and other toys strewn across the carpet like land mines, just waiting to trip the parent who is racing to the refrigerator to grab some munchies at the 2-minute warning.

Every now and then, Becca glances at the game. At one point, she came running into the kitchen as I was pouring her a cup of chocolate milk.

"Dad, Dad," she breathlessly exclaimed. "Someone caught the ball. Someone caught the ball."

It turned out it wasn't a St. Louis Ram. But that didn't matter to Becca.

She saw that oblong ball thrown and caught. That was enough.

She quickly returned to her living-room-floor party, intent on getting all her dolls seated on upturned plastic cups.

John Smith and Pocahontas were practically hugging each other, and the game was still in the third quarter.

By the time the football game ended, the party was breaking up.

The Barbies were no longer sitting up. They were sprawled across the carpet, apparently exhausted from the party.

That Wisconsin family would have had the vacuum on. But not me.

Even Barbies need their rest.

~Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.