Zhu-Zhus to You ...

So, I’ve succumbed.

No, I haven’t changed my mind about ObamaCare, or committed voter fraud. I haven’t even said anything unkind about Dave’s opponents.

But I have given in to Zhu-Zhu mania.

For anyone who might have been out of the country since last Christmas, Zhu-Zhus are those little furry pet hamsters that swept the toy scene and became the subject of more than one mom vs. mom brawl at Toys R Us. Imagine a fuzzy ball with a nose and a microchip, and you’ve pretty much described the biggest toy fad since the Pet Rock. (Oops, did I just date myself?)

I wasn’t paying much attention to the phenomenon until, of course, they became virtually impossible to find. Then -- like every other parent utterly determined to give the perfect gift -- I joined the Zhu-Zhu frenzy.

Yes, I called every retailer within a 50 mile radius everyday, hopefully awaiting Zhu-Zhu deliveries, only to be disappointed. I stood in lines that turned up empty when it was my turn. I even read internet blogs written by fellow shoppers who claimed to have a certain sixth sense when it came to finding Zhu-Zhus.

But I drew the line at Zhu-Zhu scalpers -- those, ahem, entrepreneurs lucky enough to find the little hamsters and then list them on E-Bay. God Bless America, but I’ll be darned if I’m going to pay $139 for something that retails for around $10.

Happily, there’s a new generation of Zhu-Zhus now. With names like Winkle, Scoodles and Num Nums, who can resist? They scoot around the floor, make tiny hamster chirps, and even reverse when they run into an object, like our Great Dane Arnold.

The best news, perhaps, is that they never poop. They don’t stink, either.

And the next best news is that I actually found two of them!

Now, you’re probably thinking that after all that effort, the boys weren’t terribly impressed. Like so many coveted toys, the thrill is often in the hunt, and once found, the gift is anti-climatic.

But not at our house. Those little hamsters have been all over the place. They’ve run down our hallway, skirted a maze of wooden blocks and puzzled our giant, 21-pound cat. Anthony even takes his to bed so that many mornings we are greeted with tiny hamster gurgles.

I wish I’d thought of Zhu-Zhus. But even more, I’m simply amazed that technology has come so far that for just one ten-dollar bill, one can own such a riot of motion and sounds.

Now, if they could just unload the dishwasher.