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It’s easy to forget that kids have to be taught pretty much everything, and that just because something seems as if it would be self-evident to even the littlest of minds, it probably isn’t.
While this is true at all times of the year, it seems especially important to keep in mind over the holidays.
- Even though Play-doh is a lot like cookie dough, and can easily be cut into holiday shapes that look exactly like the sugar cookies Grandma makes, you can’t bake it. And if you do, it smells really, really bad for days.
- Magic Marker shouldn’t be used to decorate Christmas cookies. Or mommy’s new Christmas dress.
- Taking a bite of raw dough is probably not going to make you sick, but eating all the raw dough in the bowl probably will. (Although probably not until 3 am.)
- Santa is not fat because he’s so completely stressed out at the thought of losing his job he’s eating too much. (Though he will be cutting back a little this year, so you might not get absolutely everything you put on your list.)
- Just because you like egg nog doesn’t mean you can have as much as you want. This also goes for the dog.
DASHER: What’s wrong? You look pissed.
COMET: Did you see the memo? “To reindeer, from Santa: due to unforeseen weather conditions, effective immediately, Rudolph will assume responsibility for sleigh navigation and team member management.”
DASHER: Rudolph’s gonna lead the sleigh tonight!?!?!?! But Rudolph doesn’t even have any experience.
COMET: I know: how can somebody who’s never even been on the team step in and lead it?
DASHER: I guess if you kiss the right ass, anything’s possible.
COMET: Yeah, forget “red nose,” they oughta call him “brown nose.”
DASHER: Doesn’t Santa realize there’s a reason we never let Rudolph join in any of our reindeer games?
COMET: You know Santa as well as I do: he only cares if you’re “good” or “bad,” not if you’re bossy, manipulative, selfish and conniving.
DASHER: Personally, I find the whole thing insulting. I mean, have we ever let Santa down before? Doesn’t he believe in us?
COMET: Sometimes I think Santa’s not just thick around the middle, he’s thick in the head, too. But what can I say? The fog’s got him worried.
DASHER: What he should be worried about is Rudolph getting a DUI.
COMET: Huh?
DASHER: C’mon – why do you think they call him “red” nose?
COMET: I had no idea.
DASHER: And the worst part is we’ll all just go along with it because that’s what good reindeer do.
COMET: We’re enablers.
DASHER: And then, when Christmas is over and all the children of the world have their toys, everybody will say it’s all because of Rudolph.
COMET: Oh, c’mon. We’ll get some of the credit.
DASHER: Mark my words: Rudolph will go down in history.
Gathering around the table. √
Spending some quality time together. √
Taking a break from DVDs, movies, video games and other passive forms of entertainment. √
Reliving fond memories of playing Monopoly as a kid. √
Trying to figure out which version of Monopoly to play. √
Watching the kids fight over who gets to be the racecar. √
Watching the kids fight over who gets to roll first. √
Watching the kids fight over who who the bowl of popcorn gets to be set down in front of. √
Threatening to send everyone to bed if they don’t behave. √
Enjoying five minutes of stress-free game play. √
Trying to explain to a younger sibling why they have to give their older sibling money just because they landed on Marvin Gardens. √
Wiping away the younger sibling’s tears. √
Using the parent voice to tell the older sibling not to be a sore winner. √
Getting competitive. √
Mentally adding up the cost of therapy if you decide to just completely bankrupt your kids. √
Reminding yourself the point is to have fun. √
Letting your kids win. √
Hoping Family Game Night will be better next week. √
Fearing that it won’t. √
Wondering if Family Movie Night would be a better idea instead. √
Things we want but don’t need:
- More choices
- The complete season of anything
- Bigger HDTVs
- New neighbors (they don’t say “The devil you know…” for nothing)
- Sleep (though it might not feel that way today, the fact that our eyes are still open proves it)
Things we need but don’t have:
- Time
- Enough space in the hall closet
- Healthy, all-natural, organic snacks that don’t taste like crap
- Somebody to validate our decisions
- Perspective (which, like car keys and DVD cases, is easy to misplace and doesn’t usually turn up until we stop looking for it)
Things we have but don’t use:
- Offers from childless friends to baby-sit
- Half of whatever we got at our school’s last silent auction
- A fondue set
- Kid coupons for “15 minutes of quiet,” “a free back rub,” “breakfast in bed,” etc.
- Control over what we do with our life (even though it doesn’t always — or ever? — feel that way)
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With a single Thanksgiving meal packing a full day-and-half’s worth of calories, it’s easy to see why so many of us find ourselves slumped on the sofa in front of the TV after everyone has gone home, groaning, bloated, unable to move and wondering why we feel so bad.
Fortunately, there is a simple way to prevent this kind of excess on Thanksgiving: go vegan.
While many can’t imagine Thanksgiving without turkey, gravy and sausage-based stuffing, that’s the whole point: if you fill your table with stuff you don’t like and normally wouldn’t ever eat, you can’t possibly eat too much.
True, nut roll, tempeh and all-the-vegetables-you-can-eat might not sound very appealing to some, but keep in mind that you can still booze it up.
(And while that, too, may leave you slumped on the sofa in front of the TV after everyone has gone home, you won’t be groaning, bloated, unable to move and wondering why you feel so bad, you’ll just be passed out).
Gobble. Gobble. Gobble.
Editor’s note: What if you’re already vegan? Do just the opposite: go un-vegan. Not only will the shock of all that animal flesh make you instantly sick — and therefore unable to overeat — throwing up at the table will also help your friends and family because the sight, sound and smell of your vomit will likely cause them to vomit, too, and then nobody will be able to eat, let alone overeat.
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PARENT: Did you decide what you want to be yet?
KID: A vampire.
PARENT: I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.
KID: Why?
PARENT: You’re not supposed to be anything anyone might find inappropriate.
KID: Seriously?
PARENT: That’s what it said in the paper.
KID: I guess I could be G.I.JOE.
PARENT: No, you can’t do that because your school has a zero-tolerance policy on weapons.
KID: What if I leave the plastic gun at home?
PARENT: You’d still get expelled for wearing a holster.
KID: How about I go as a hobo?
PARENT: That’s culturally insensitive.
KID: You were an Indian when you were a kid, what about that?
PARENT: That’s racially insensitive.
KID: A wrinkly old man?
PARENT: That’s ageist.
KID: The Devil?
PARENT: Too many people think Halloween glorifies Satanism, so that’s not a good idea either.
KID: How about I just throw a sheet over my head and go as a ghost?
PARENT: No.
KID: Why?
PARENT: Covering your face like that would be a safety issue.
KID: Then what should I be?
PARENT: How about a clown?
KID: No way – clowns are too scary.
For a holiday that doesn’t include presents or days off from school, why is Halloween so popular?
And is it better than it used to be, or worse?
If you were a kid at any time during the ‘70s, the contrast between Halloween now and Halloween then is pretty clear.
(Besides the fact that now you’re the parent.)
For starters, you didn’t buy a costume back then, you made one. You thought of something cool, that nobody else would come up with, and then you spent the two or three weeks leading up to October 31st badgering your mother to help you make it.
“Pretty please?”
Sometimes your creation went over well, sometimes it didn’t:
KID #1: What are you?
KID #2: I’m Floyd, the Hillbilly Sheriff.
KID #1: Oh.
Now everybody just goes to Target or one of those pop-up Halloween stores and picks out one of the pre-packaged outfits from Star Wars, Hannah Montana, Harry Potter, X-Men, G.I. Joe, Transformers, iCarly or Micky Mouse Clubhouse, or for those who want something less commercial, a costume from the unbranded collection:
KID #1: Who are you?
KID #2: I’m a generic pirate. Argh. How about you?
KID #1: I’m a generic ghost. Boo.
Not that homogenization is all bad: at least nobody gets their feelings hurt because their costume sucks.
And for grown-ups who can’t tell Boba Fett from Voldemort, it’s convenient that asking “And what are you supposed to be?” once means you’ll be able to correctly identify 80% of whoever comes up to your door the rest of the night.
There were plenty of other differences as well:
- Schools actually had Halloween parties during school hours.
- If a kid was going as, say, a soldier or a cowboy, he’d bring a toy gun without worrying about a zero-tolerance expulsion.
- For costumes in general, nobody thought twice about being culturally insensitive. (And sometimes it seemed like that was the whole point.)
- Kids went trick or treating by themselves, late into the night, without flashlights, beacons, cell phones, GPS or an adult guardian.
- Nobody gave out healthy snacks (or felt guilt that they didn’t).
Maybe it’s just that everything seemed to move at a slower pace back then, with fewer complications and less to worry about — the biggest fear a parent faced was an apple with a razorblade inside, not an Amber Alert.
(Or an H1N1 outbreak after a crowded Halloween party.)
Contrast that with today, where there seem to be so many risks and potential red flags, it’s amazing we even let our kids participate in a tradition where they walk around in the dark collecting candy we haven’t screened from neighbors we haven’t met.
Then again, if the whole point of Halloween is to be scared, now definitely beats then, and probably will until our kids are grown.
(Which is exactly what our parents said in the ’70s.)
- If you’re a parent, just accentuate the bags under your eyes and go as a zombie.
- Stick your head in the sand and tell everyone you’re an optimist.
- Put on white pants, a white shirt, and white shoes, then jump in the shower and go as the melting polar ice caps.
- Grab your resume, put on a suit and tie and be one of the millions looking for work. (And if you actually are one of the millions looking for work, do all of the above, but also smile and tell everyone you’re the 1 in 500 who applied for a job and actually got hired.)
- Grab a coin, a ouija board, an astrology chart and some of those bones mystics in movies throw to predict the future and tell everyone you’re an economist.
- Write “Healthcare Debate” on your shirt, then stab yourself with a fork and say you’re done. (But first make sure the nearest emergency room is on your list of approved providers, you have plenty of money to make your co-pay, and that your health insurance company won’t decline coverage because your stab wound is a pre-existing condition.)
- Stay home and hide in the attic, then when people ask you what you did for Halloween you can tell them you went as the balloon boy.
- Smile, breath a deep sigh of relief, and be the parent of a kid who’s going to a Halloween party at somebody else’s house.
Halloween is supposed to be the one night of the year you can let your kids eat too much candy without feeling guilty about it, which makes an in-depth article like this one on CNN.com not only depressing, but irresponsible, mean-spirited and wholly inappropriate.
Boo-hiss, CNN.
Next time have the courtesy to run this after Halloween is over.
Which means:
- Whatever the weather forecast is for next weekend still has a 50% chance of being wrong — 75% if it’s supposed to be a nice.
- All the good candy is already gone.
- If you are hoping to exchange the costume you told your child not to get because you knew he or she wouldn’t ultimately want to wear it, you are probably out of luck because all the good costumes are gone, too.
KID: Mother’s Day is coming up.
MOM: I know.
KID: Do you want us to get you anything?
MOM: Only if you want to.
KID: Or course we want to, we just don’t know what you want.
MOM: Surprise me.
KID: With what?
MOM: With something I’d like.
KID: A present?
MOM: Sure.
KID: But what kind of present?
MOM: How can you spend so much time with me and not know a single thing I like? Just think about what I do every day.
KID: Okay.
MOM: Does that give you any ideas?
KID: It does — we could get you some plastic bags.
MOM: Plastic Bags?
KID: For making our lunches.
MOM: No.
KID: Okay, what about some dish towels?
MOM: No.
KID: Pencils you could use to help us with homework?
MOM: No.
KID: A mop?
MOM: No.
KID: You already have an SUV you like to drive us around in. How about one of those cool toilet bowl cleaners I saw on TV?
MOM: No.
KID: New laundry basket?
MOM: Do you think I do all those things because I like to?
KID: Why else would you do them?
MOM: Because I’m a mom and that’s what mom’s do: stuff they don’t like doing, but needs to be done.
KID: Oh.
MOM: Yeah, “Oh.”
KID: If that’s the case, then I know exactly what you’d like for Mother’s Day.
MOM: What’s that?
KID: To be like Dad: ‘cause there’s lots of stuff he needs to do, but usually he just watches ESPN instead.
Editor’s Note: While not entirely true, there’s no doubt the sentiment expressed above often feels true.
Kid #1: Got your Halloween costume yet?
Kid #2: No.
Kid #1: Why not?
Kid #2: I got grounded.
Kid #1: On Halloween? What happened?
Kid #2: I told my parents I wanted to be something really, really scary, so my mom said I should be John McCain, and my dad said I should be Barack Obama.
Kid #1: Okay.
Kid #2: But then they started arguing about who was right and who was a pig-headed moron.
Kid #1: I hate it when parents do that.
Kid #2: Me, too. I stood there for as long as I could, but finally I couldn’t take it anymore.
Kid #1: What did you do?
Kid #2: I said if they really want me to be something scary, I should just go as Sarah Palin.
Kid #1: So why’d you get grounded?
Kid #2: Well… the only way I could get their attention was by smashing the table lamp.
Kid #1: Yikes.
Kid #2: Yeah, but at least they found common ground.
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