A few mornings ago I heard my boys discussing which car insurance company they were going to go with when they start driving. Never mind the fact that they won't be driving for another five to six years, apparently this conversation was one of real importance for them. Pumpkin Head was going with All State, no question about it! However, he changed his mind once Monkey pointed out that All State totally ripped of Geico with a talking guy. This led Pumpkin Head to change his choice to Progressive. Monkey on the other hand felt that Geico was the best choice not only because of the cute British Gecko, but because they also used to have the Cavemen in their commercials.
Wow, what a way to start the morning, and without even a cup of coffee! It got me to thinking about the affect commercials have on young minds. When I was a kid I didn't have the options of viewing that my children have. I had either PBS, Saturday Morning Cartoons or Brady Bunch re-runs. PBS never had commercials, but I remember SMC being jammed packed with advertisements for toys (my personal faves were ones about Barbie). Overall, that's about it when it came to commercial exposure. My kids, however, have a huge selection of shows on channels designed specifically for them that run all day and all night. Their ad exposure is, well, it's obscene!
It's not that my kids are watching twenty four hours of television either. They really don't watch that much. They would rather be playing with each other or reading (I'm not making that up, really, they like to read). You see, the same commercials run over and over and over again. Honestly, I think if some catastrophe happened and all commercials, especially infomercials, were erased my kids could recite them word for word solving the advertisement crisis.
Over time, I really started to see the influence these 30 second spots had on my kids. Once, I was complaining about my back hurting and Pumpkin Head told me I should get a sleep by numbers bed. He told me his father and I could even have our own favorite numbers set at the same time. Not only that, I could try it for free for like a month! It wasn't just sleep by numbers. Queenie noticed the plants were droopy, she told me I should get an aqua globe. Monkey suggested I get a Snuggie after noticing that because I was reading a book, my arms weren't covered by the blanket (this advice I did follow). Boy, those ad execs are sure smart! They've got the kids marketing their products for them! Really, take a look yourself! Have you ever noticed the amount of infomercials on channels like Disney, Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon? Turn it on one day, in fact make a tally. You will be shocked!
Of course there aren't just infomercials. There are other ads too, like for car insurance. I love how these people think ahead. Oh and let's not forget the fast food commercials. My kids are all about collecting everyone of the crappy little toys from every joint in town. Of course this never happens because that is one ad that mom doesn't buy into!
I'm not in denial. I know that is what our society is all about. Consumerism. As adults we buy into it all the time, literally. It just makes me a little sad that my kids are doing it way ahead of schedule. Thinking about products they need for their future adult selves. Nothing like starting them off young. All I can say is thank God for DVR! I think from now on I'll be taping all the programs my children love. That way I can stick it to the man! I can fast forward through all the junk!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The F-Bomb
Last year I received a letter from my children's school addressed the parents of Monkey. It was one of two things, and informational letter or a discipline slip. I have to say my children have always demonstrated good behavior so I opened the letter with complete confidence that it was just the results of another test score. Possibly this was the one telling me that my son was a genius and that I was up for the Best Parent of the Year Award because he clearly learned his genius from me. Well, the note did reveal that he had learned something from me. He learned how to use the f-bomb.
According to the letter Monkey had yelled f'n a-hole to another child on the bus. Mind you by the time I got the letter disciplinary action had already been taken. Monkey had yelled the obscenity on Monday and on Tuesday had visited the principal, who by the way was my boss at the time. I was home sick from work on Tuesday, so I missed all the fireworks. Of course I was furious. Furious that my son would say something so mean to another child, furious at him for not breathing a word of this for two days and furious that now my boss thought I was raising a foul-mouthed sailor.
Luckily for Monkey he was at school when the letter was delivered, so I had a few hours to cool off before he would have to face my wrath. During that time I couldn't help but contemplate where my sweet boy would learn such words. At first I turned the guns on my husband. Oh, yes he was the one to blame. Swear words rolled of his tongue like butter off a hot roll. But he wasn't entirely to blame. There were also those older kids on the bus. Yeah, I've heard their little mouth rattle off some doozies. Yes, my husband and the little brats on the bus. That was where he learned the words. They would take the fall. However, being that I'm human, I have a conscience and it was telling me otherwise.
I'll admit it, I have a potty mouth. I try not to let the words slip out, but sometimes I just can't help it. It's completely out of my control! Like for instance, say I'm running late and in my rushed state I hit my toe on the leg of the table. The first word that flies is usually the f-bomb. I don't want to say it, but it just comes out and somehow it makes me feel better. Being a writer, I believe in the power of words and sometimes that power includes dulling the pain of a throbbing toe. I'm not proud of it, but I can except the fact that I too am responsible for teaching my children profanity.
By the time Monkey arrived home I was calm. He had no clue that only hours before steam had been seeping from my ears and fire from my nose. I sat him down and did something I thoroughly enjoy doing with my kids.
Me: "Monkey, do you have anything you would like to tell me?"
I always like to open the door for a confession. I find that asking an open ended question like this not only can get your children to admit to the things you know about, but it can often get them to admit to the things you didn't know.
Monkey: "Um, I got a C on my science test."
Me: "Yes, but is there anything else you want to tell me?"
Monkey: "I took Queenie's picture and ripped it up."
Queenie: "WHAT? MOM HE RIPPED MY PICTURE!"
Me: "Nope, not what I'm talking about. Would you like to tell me what happened on the bus?"
Monkey: "No."
Me: "You want to answer that question again?"
Monkey: "I called Pumpkin Head a bad word, but he started it mom."
The pieces were starting to come together. After a short interrogation period I learned that my two boys were arguing over Pokemon on the bus. My little Monkey has a short fuse (I don't know where he gets this from), and in the heat of passion the word vomit just shot out of his mouth. I could sympathize. After all, I suffered from the same debilitating disease. Then there was a twist in the story that even I couldn't see coming. Turns out the person who told the bus driver about the word crime was none other than his own brother. Honestly, I don't know what upset me more, Monkey calling Pumpkin Head bad words or Pumpkin Head telling a school authority on his brother. Come on man! There's a code when it comes to family and I'm sure that not ratting out a brother is one of them!
I spent the night discussing the need to watch our words, to think about other people's feelings , controlling our tempers and not tattling on siblings. Things were all good at home, the next thing I had to do was face my boss. All I could do was state the facts. I looked at him and said, "I don't know where the f*** he gets it."
According to the letter Monkey had yelled f'n a-hole to another child on the bus. Mind you by the time I got the letter disciplinary action had already been taken. Monkey had yelled the obscenity on Monday and on Tuesday had visited the principal, who by the way was my boss at the time. I was home sick from work on Tuesday, so I missed all the fireworks. Of course I was furious. Furious that my son would say something so mean to another child, furious at him for not breathing a word of this for two days and furious that now my boss thought I was raising a foul-mouthed sailor.
Luckily for Monkey he was at school when the letter was delivered, so I had a few hours to cool off before he would have to face my wrath. During that time I couldn't help but contemplate where my sweet boy would learn such words. At first I turned the guns on my husband. Oh, yes he was the one to blame. Swear words rolled of his tongue like butter off a hot roll. But he wasn't entirely to blame. There were also those older kids on the bus. Yeah, I've heard their little mouth rattle off some doozies. Yes, my husband and the little brats on the bus. That was where he learned the words. They would take the fall. However, being that I'm human, I have a conscience and it was telling me otherwise.
I'll admit it, I have a potty mouth. I try not to let the words slip out, but sometimes I just can't help it. It's completely out of my control! Like for instance, say I'm running late and in my rushed state I hit my toe on the leg of the table. The first word that flies is usually the f-bomb. I don't want to say it, but it just comes out and somehow it makes me feel better. Being a writer, I believe in the power of words and sometimes that power includes dulling the pain of a throbbing toe. I'm not proud of it, but I can except the fact that I too am responsible for teaching my children profanity.
By the time Monkey arrived home I was calm. He had no clue that only hours before steam had been seeping from my ears and fire from my nose. I sat him down and did something I thoroughly enjoy doing with my kids.
Me: "Monkey, do you have anything you would like to tell me?"
I always like to open the door for a confession. I find that asking an open ended question like this not only can get your children to admit to the things you know about, but it can often get them to admit to the things you didn't know.
Monkey: "Um, I got a C on my science test."
Me: "Yes, but is there anything else you want to tell me?"
Monkey: "I took Queenie's picture and ripped it up."
Queenie: "WHAT? MOM HE RIPPED MY PICTURE!"
Me: "Nope, not what I'm talking about. Would you like to tell me what happened on the bus?"
Monkey: "No."
Me: "You want to answer that question again?"
Monkey: "I called Pumpkin Head a bad word, but he started it mom."
The pieces were starting to come together. After a short interrogation period I learned that my two boys were arguing over Pokemon on the bus. My little Monkey has a short fuse (I don't know where he gets this from), and in the heat of passion the word vomit just shot out of his mouth. I could sympathize. After all, I suffered from the same debilitating disease. Then there was a twist in the story that even I couldn't see coming. Turns out the person who told the bus driver about the word crime was none other than his own brother. Honestly, I don't know what upset me more, Monkey calling Pumpkin Head bad words or Pumpkin Head telling a school authority on his brother. Come on man! There's a code when it comes to family and I'm sure that not ratting out a brother is one of them!
I spent the night discussing the need to watch our words, to think about other people's feelings , controlling our tempers and not tattling on siblings. Things were all good at home, the next thing I had to do was face my boss. All I could do was state the facts. I looked at him and said, "I don't know where the f*** he gets it."
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