How Children Talk

Things Park Slope Kids Say

With all those myriad of “things x or y type of people say” videos that have gone from viral to pandemic this winter, there is something I've thought would be amazing but have never yet seen: things Park Slope Kids say. It's true that there is a hilarious video called “Things Park Slope Parents Say” and that's close, but it's just not the same. It's one thing to have a sense of humor about how the precious and insane way you treat your children. It's another entirely to have a sense of humor about how they turn out.

For example, once your child starts whining “but I want organic yogurt” I think you pretty much have to put them in private school or ship them off to Portland. A kid who whines for organic yogurt would get killed at my elementary school and I grew up in a small town in a state that was known as “America's Dairyland” so it's not like we were anti cow products. But seriously, no child should want an organic yogurt and they certainly shouldn't whine for it.

My room-mate who has the courage to volunteer at the Park Slope co-op (I will never be that brave) recently heard a Park Slope kid whining for an gluten free tortilla. As he got louder and louder and his father pretended not to hear his wails, despite the fact that they were rickocheting off the walls, the kid finally started screaming “I want feedback! I want feedback!” If your kid is asking for feedback, take cover, because it's only a matter time until you will be fighting them on the organic yogurt as well.

Kids Talk Politics

My niece and nephew were raised by activists and it totally shows.Early one Saturday winter morning they decided they really wanted-- no needed to go to McDonald's for breakfast. My sister and brother in law declined since it was freezing out and all the fixings for a good breakfast were available at the house. At this time my niece was around six years old and my nephew was around eight.

They disappeared to my niece's bedroom for about 20 minutes and there was much giggling and signs of a mild commotion. Then they returned to their parents' bedroom, hoisting homemade signs taped onto 12 inch rulers. “What do we want” they chanted in unison, “to go to McDonald's. When do we want to go now!”

When they started the refrain of “2,4,6,8 we think McDonalds is really great” my sister turned to my brother in law “If we say no, what lesson are we teaching? And if we say yes?” My brother in law shrugged. “there is no way we're winning this one. We accede to your demands.”

A few years later I was watching Harry Potter (the first one) with my niece and nephew. You know the part where Professor Quarel has the beastly thing living in the back of his head which turns out to be Voldemort? Anyway, my nine year old niece turns to me and observes with nary a smil “do you think that's what it's like for Rumsfeld and Cheney living in the back of Bush's head!?”

I replied, "um, yeah that's probably exactly what it's like."

The Ways Kids Talk, Parodied

My sister bought me a copy of Shel Silverstein's Uncle Shelby's ABZ Book when I graduated from high school. We were close, but she went to college in Pennsylvania, two years before me, and I went to college in Oklahoma City. My freshman year I have vivid memories of standing in the pay phone in the student lounge (this was 1987, before people really had cell phones) while she read the book aloud to me. We'd both be in hysterics.It's both charming and wise that Uncle Shelby's ABZ book contains multiple disclaimers that say, in essence “danger, this is not a children's book” or “no no no don't buy this for your kids.” That's because the ABZ Book parodies the world of children in a way that adults will enjoy and would probably wreak a little bit of havoc with kids. It starts out with the warning “it's not nice to burn books, so if your mommy and daddy try to burn this book, call the police on them” Then Uncle Shelby, as he calls himself for this book, proceeds to illustrate each letter with something that would be guaranteed to get a kid in trouble if they actually followed the logic to its conclusion. For example, “Daddy is sleeping on the couch. Poor poor daddy. He hasn't had money to get a haircut because he had to buy ice cream and toys for you. Who will cut his hair. Poor poor daddy.” See why it's clearly indicated that it's for adults? There are additional terrible suggestions involving ink and apples and the gas tank on the family car. But basically, you should get it for yourself because I guarantee it will make you laugh.

Oh How Little Faith My Niece Has

...In My Decision-Making Abilities

All my niece and nephew are brilliant, as far as I'm concerned. I have one particular niece who is great at letting me know exactly what she'd thinking without, as the rather violent cliché goes, pulling any punches. But sometimes I wonder if she is not quite as convinced of my brilliance as I am of hers.For example, one day we were looking through old pictures. I was sorting through a shoebox on my lap when I pulled out a very old polaroid.

“Hey,” I said eagerly, “do you want to see a picture of grandpa Dunham."

My niece looked at me for a moment, clearly horrified.

“Wait...” she said, brightening a little, “You mean a picture that was taken while he was still alive, right?”

Clearly my niece was quite certain that I was the type of person who might show a young child a picture of their taxidermied grandfather, or worse yet, a picture of their grandfather taken some time after arriving at the medical examiner's office.

Another time I mentioned that I designed and built a Right Guard Can costume to wear to a dance when I was in junior high and was disappointed that I didn't win the “best costume” award.

My niece looked at me skeptically. “Aunt Kelli” she asked, “are you sure it was a Halloween dance?”

Because anyone who might possibly show a child a picture of their taxidermied grandfather might also possibly show up at a non costumed themed school dance wearing a costume, and a personal hygiene themed costume at that.

Queen For A Day?

A few years ago I was attending a conference at a large hotel, the kind of hotel that is right off of a turnpike, has typical bad art and indoor/outdoor carpeting where none really is needed. The kind of hotel that houses very specific cultural conferences and family reunions. The two kind of renters often co-exist, mostly well.During a spontaneous arts and crafts session between panels and workshops, a friend made a crown which did not fit her head but did, in fact, fit mine. She gave it to me.
I wore it around for the rest of the night, because, well, what else would I do? It's not every day that someone gives me a crown. I'm not that kind of person. This worked out well when I was within the confines of conference programming. However, I forgot, and wore it in the elevator when I ran up to my room. Here is what happened.

Little kid in elevator (to his mom): Why is that little boy wearing a crown? (please note that I am an adult female not a little boy)

Mom (eyes me, quizzically, clearly expecting me to answer)

Me: (pretending to text message someone) Silence.

Little kid in elevator: Moooom. Really!?

Mom: Um, I think he's in a school play.

Little kid in elevator: I want to be in a school play too.

Mom: (Bringing out the adult ender of all unwanted conversation with kids in our trust) We'll see.

This May Be the Scariest Thing You See All Day

From Pageant Crack to Go-Go Juice: The Sick Life of the Tiny Pageant Queen

When it comes to Toddler and Tiaras and similar utter horse crap, I usually try to avoid it all because I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or simply throw things. What these parents do to their children—from sexualizing them at such an early age to rendering them mindless consumers who bleach their teeth and dye their eye lashes before they even hit puberty—is unconscionable, and in my opinion, should be illegal.

So when I saw this latest little clip about a six-year-old girl who is both adorable and terrifying, I found myself crying. My little girl is the same age, but I would never think to give her “pageant crack,” as the mothers refer to them—also known as pixie sticks—or whatever soda concoction they provide for their children known as “Go-Go Juice.” Not only are they promoting unhealthy body image, a grotesque view of the world, and likely scarring their poor daughters for life—but they’re also promoting poor nutrition? This is madness!

My daughter enjoys pixie sticks a couple of times a year, and she doesn’t even like soda pop. She might steal a sip of orange soda during family game night, but if you try to give her a soda—or even kool-aid—at a family gathering or simply at home, she will ask you for water instead. This isn’t because we brainwash our kid; like I said, she can have some when she wants it, but sparingly. This is because she is used to water from having it daily and prefers it. That is how you raise a healthy child.

Little Alana is very cute when she’s talking to you, and I did giggle over her “Honey boo-boo child!” But she’s also terrifying—the way she worships money and huge trophies, the way she dances the way her mother instructs her to, including shaking her belly and finagling her body in unnatural and provocative ways no girl her age would do (I know this because I have one myself, and neither she, nor any of her friends, do this; it is quite obviously instilled from an adult’s instruction).

Look, we all come out of childhood a bit damaged from something or another; no parent is perfect. But this treatment of our girls is an absolute outrage and I want to see it stopped—not glorified on cable television for sadistic entertainment purposes. These are kids’ lives we are talking about here.

Learning Things

So, I work with teenagers and many of them (to their great credit, since all of them are pregnant or have a kid under 2 years of age) are still in high school. And when it's prom season every other home I go to, the kid will be talking about prom and then disappear for a moment, saying "I'll be right back" and then reappear carrying her prom dress.

Still don't understand the problem? I am not a girly girl. I have worn a dress twice in the last decade. I don't know anything about prom dresses. Nothing. I smile and I nod and say things like "oh yes, that's nice" and make other vaguely positive comments, but often times the kids are looking for actual feedback. One time a kid showed me a book of 200 swatches of fabric and went through each one, asking me what I thought of them. As far as I could see they were all the same color: blue. Making conversation about prom dresses is not really something I should do unsupervised.

After some time, and some consults with more girly co-workers, I've figured out some comments to make and questions to ask. I actually wrote them on a three by five card so I can refer to them:

Wow, where did you get the shoes?

How are you going to wear your hair?

Wow, I didn't know they made maternity prom dresses.

Wow, that's an amazing shade of (whatever color).

Wow, I've never seen a dress like that before!

What jewelry are you going to wear with it?

Do you have a matching purse?

But one year I had a particularly astute teenager as client. She looked at me, looked at the dress and said “how about I just tell you about prom afterwards? You don't look like you know a dress from a laundry bag.”

I had to laugh, because of the way she said it, and because she was perfectly right.

Fun At "Meet the Teacher Night"

I hope that I'm thought of as the “fun aunt” or maybe the “wacky aunt” and not the “aunt that makes me uncomfortable because she's over the top weird.” It's really a fine line. For example, a few years ago I went with my niece V to open house night at her school. She showed me (proudly, I thought) around the building, introducing me to her friends, her friends' parents and telling me everything there was to know about fifth grade at Powell Elementary School. And then we arrived at her classroom, where she introduced me to Miss S, her teacher. This is how the conversation went:

V* (to teacher): This is my Aunt Kelli

Me: (feeling proud because she is introducing me) Hi, glad to meet you, blah blah blah...

V* (interrupting, and motioning towards me) She puts french fries up her nose.

Teacher: (Speechless, clearly waiting for me to produce french fries from my backpack and confirm V's assertion)

Me: Well, um, not all the time, I mean, um, not...uh...

Teacher: Well, anyway, nice to meet you.

Just to clarify: yes, I have put french fries up my nose. But not all the time, and not all the way. I only do it a little, to look like an elephant (like the tusks) and only as an emergency when we are out to eat and V and her brother will not stop bickering. It works, by the way. If you don't mind being introduced as Aunt Kelli, who puts french fries up her nose.