Monica Yant Kinney: Today's girls don't need Barbie to learn about options

Four times in the last week, friends sent cheeky e-mails alerting me to Mattel's new Journalist Barbie. Those who know me presumed I'd be horrified at the thought of Barbie as a professional role model for my 6-year-old daughter, Jane.

Blame wanderlust or sexism, but Barbie can't keep a job. She's been an astronaut, aerobics instructor, rock star, nurse, and police officer.

In the 1980s, "Day to Night CEO Barbie" took corporate America by storm. In 1992, a white Barbie ran for president; in 2004, a black one did. Barbie is both busty and ahead of her time.

To celebrate Barbie's 50th birthday, her makers asked fans to vote on her 125th gig. The choices: architect, computer engineer, environmentalist, surgeon, or journalist.

The winner: TV news anchor.

The latest installment in the "I Can Be" series possesses "a flair for journalism and power pink." How pink? Her skimpy suit sports three shades: seashell, dusty rose, and Pepto-Bismol.

The $12.99 hard plastic working woman "cannot stand alone," but does come with a microphone and camera for reporting "up-to-the-minute news in signature Barbie style." Mattel doesn't say what, exactly, she's carrying in that "B News" folder, but if News Anchor Barbie is the real deal, then it's likely a grim ratings report and a new contract offering less money.

Intrigued, I rush out to Toys R Us, only to learn that News Anchor Barbie is not yet on the shelves.

For $24.99, I could buy Baby Doctor Barbie, who treats twins, or Sweet Chef Barbie, who comes with a mini-mixer that spins. The $13.99 Race Car Driver Barbie even includes a tip from Danica Patrick about following your dreams.

I mull how much money to waste. Two years ago, I bequeathed my 1970s Barbie collection to Jane. She giggled at the sight of Ken in a wedding gown, but was otherwise uninterested. The girls she plays with don't play with dolls, either.

Still, I scoop up the $24.99 Zoo Doctor Barbie - dressed for success in camouflage short-shorts, a belly shirt, and pink Nancy Sinatra boots - and head for the checkout. At home, Jane rips open the box to X-ray the tiny tiger and koala.

"Mommy, we have an emergency, this monkey is throwing up!" she shouts. "Barbie needs to change her clothes."

I figure she'll grab a pair of jeans. Instead, Jane puts the good doctor in a vintage aubergine A-line dress and a pair of silver stilettos.

Sorry to disappoint the haters, but beyond the unobtainable body and unprofessional attire, Zoo Doctor Barbie seems harmless.

But she does nothing to excite my first grader about exploring veterinary medicine. So we visit the "I Can Be" website for online edification and inspiration.

There, Jane plays a video game putting Band-Aids on injured fish. The next game asks future dentists to brush "sugar bugs" off Barbie's gleaming teeth. Another challenges girls to race cars through the streets of London.

Steering Jane away from the games, I try to get her to watch a video of a real vet, but she balks. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

Jane's pediatrician is a woman. So are her dentist, her teacher, and her soccer coach. The pharmacist at the CVS we frequent is a she. So is our town's mayor.

Jane sees my face in the newspaper and her friend Ella's mommy on ESPN. Today's girls don't need a doll to learn about career options.

"I can be anybody I want to be?" Jane mumbles when I press her on whether she's learned anything from our after-school adventure.

By bedtime, she's back to obsessing about Harry Potter. Her little brother, however, seems smitten by Zoo Doctor Barbie.

"I play with my doll?" 2-year-old Owen asks the next morning before swinging Barbie by her luscious locks and hurling her over the fence and under the car.