We're back now at 7:38 and I'm joined by national investigative correspondent Chris Rossen- or is it Jeff Hansen?-- who is taking a look at kids' behavior in Day Care and other public places compared to what they do at home.
Thanks Matt. That's right, we followed two kids to school and Day Care, places where their caretakers say they have exhibited exemplary, even award-winning, behavior. And then we followed them home, where things take a drastic turn. What we found will shock and frustrate you, especially if you happen to be these kids' parents.
This is six-year-old Sophia - not her real name, but the top girls baby name in 2007, so more likely than any other name to be her real name. Sophia is in kindergarten, and we hired a staffer to dress as a parent volunteer to follow Sophia throughout a day in school. We also followed her to Day Care during a teacher In-Service day. We noticed Sophia playing beautifully with other kids, picking up after herself, politely talking to the adults in the room, even earning an orange water bottle from her Day Care teachers for helping to clean up the class garden when all the other kids ran to the bathroom or the toy shelf. Her kindergarten teacher goes so far as to call her "a joy to have in class" and one young lady calls Sophia "my BFF."
At home? Well, we hired another staffer, a really hot, young, tan, well-built staffer, to pose as Sophia's dad. We saw a vastly different Sophia. Aloof, lazy, argumentative. With our hidden cameras rolling, we see her room, a complete mess. Dress-up clothes all over the floor, regular clothes all over the floor, doll baby clothes all over the floor, stuffed animal clothes all over the floor. Basically there is no floor.
And watch this exchange between Sophia and her mother that we also caught:
Mom: Sophia, I need you to clean up your room.
Mom: Sophia, now.
Mom: Sophia, did you hear me?
Mom: Sophia, I said I need you to clean up your room.
Mom: Now.
Mom: NOW.
Mom: Sophia, you also have to clean your easel.
Mom: Sophia, it's time for dinner.
Sophia (staring at iPad): OK, in a minute.
<10 minutes later>
Mom: SOPHIA!
Sophia: I said I'd be there in a minute!
We also followed Aiden, who is three. Again, our cameras caught Aiden playing reasonably well with his friends and acting shy most of the day. We have Day Care staff members admitting on camera that they wish he'd "come out of his shell" a little more often. Like his sister Sophia, he was commended for his work in the "picking up after everyone else" category, which earned him a trip to Chik Fil-A. (Note: He did not earn the trip to Chik Fil-A just because it was Wednesday. Promise.)
Once again, we saw a different side to Aiden at home. That shy, kind helpful little boy at Day Care? He had transformed into a back-talking, lazy, belligerent fellow at home. We saw Aiden push his little brother to the floor over the TV remote, which 3 minutes later was lost for days. He also had some heated discussions with his mother over his role in helping the family clean the living room, which you'll see here:
Mom: It's time to pick up your toys, Aiden.
Aiden: No, it's time to pick up YOUR TOYS, Mommy.
Mom: Aiden, I don't have any toys. These are your toys, and you need to help pick them up.
Aiden: <unintelligible>
Mom: Don't you talk to me that way, Aiden! Go to your room.
Aiden: No, you go to YOUR ROOM, Mommy.
Mom: That's it. You're going to bed now.
Aiden: No, YOU'RE going to bed, Mommy.
We confronted both Sophia and Aiden after taping and showed them some of the footage for their reactions.
Hi, I'm Jeff Hansen with NBC Dateline.
Wait, That other guy wasn't my daddy?
When shown the video of their shenanigans and rude behavior at home, both Sophia and Aiden giggled. Then they giggled some more. Then they asked to see it again. Then they giggled. Then they giggled some more. Then they asked to see it again. Then they giggled. Then they giggled some more. As we tried to move on in the interview, they asked to see the video "just one more time," and we agreed to show them the video just one more time. Then they asked to see some of our video equipment and proceeded to make pig faces into it and recite in unison the "Someone help me, I have a flat tiiiiirrrrre!" line from the GEICO commercial. Then they asked to see that and they giggled. Then they asked to see it again...
Matt, this type of behavior seems to be taking over youngsters in many parts of the world. Gone are the days when teachers challenged our kids with, "Are you allowed to do that at home?" These days it's the parents who are asking, "Are you allowed to do that in Day Care?" It's quite a transition.
Jeff, we look forward to your full report tonight on Dateline, where I also understand we'll hear from the Grandparents Coalition?
That's right, Matt, we did speak to the Grandparents Coalition, who released a statement on behalf of all grandkids yesterday saying, "They're fine." We'll hear their side as well tonight.
All right, Jeff, we'll be watching, and we'll be watching this weekend for your in-depth expose on Kids And Boogers. What makes them so interesting to our kids?
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
One Down
Nothing interesting ever happens on trips on the Pennsylvania Turnpike between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia. You can make mental progress reports on your favorite rest stop renovation projects. You can trade choice words with drivers who slow up to 32 mph inside the Kittatinny Tunnel, as mandated by the Scary Monster who waits outside to snatch you up if you exceed 40. And, of course, you have church in a foreign language all over your radio dial. And that church comes in clearer than anything you've ever heard on satellite radio, which confounds on multiple levels.
We all sat up a little straighter today, then, when trudging between Blue Mountain and Carlisle, from deep in the third row came a sudden announcement from a person we thought should have been sleeping or at least been engrossed in something electronic: "Hey, my tooth came out..."
This is a big deal. We (mostly the kid) had been leery of this day since the day the first tooth wiggled a little. Does it hurt when it comes out? What if my mouth bleeds? What if it comes out when I'm sleeping? What if I swallow it? What if the tooth fairy forgets to show up? Do I really need to tie it to a moving car to get it out like they did in the Jackass movie?
Fortunately, the answer to these was either No or N/A. We were relieved that there were no hysterical tears from the girl who has mastered hysterical tears for everything from elbow scrapes to commercials before YouTube videos. And on the turnpike no less, with the next rest stop a helpful 244 miles away and possibly closed for renovations.
Very soon a critical error was made, as critical errors often follow kids around like little brothers. Always the helpful type, she tried to open a juice box for her brother, the three-year-old, and entrusted him with the tooth. Predictably, within seconds the tooth was gone. Four minutes after her first baby tooth extracted itself without incident, we had lost the tooth. Cue the hysterical tears. On the turnpike, no less. With the next rest stop now just 239 miles away.
Fortunately, my wife is tremendous with this stuff. She already had three alternate plans available for the Tooth Fairy:
1. We'll write a letter to the tooth fairy and explain the mishap.
2. We'll provide a reasonable facsimile of the tooth from stones from the driveway.
3. <biggest longshot> We'll pull over and find the tooth.
Remarkably, this eased my daughter's concerns. Even more remarkably, for the first time in his young life, the three-year-old boy showed remorse for something he was directly responsible for. He was genuinely hurt that he had lost his sister's prized tooth. "We'll find it, I PROMISE, it was a accident," he explained in a pitch-perfect attempt at damage control. I would have liked to have seen similar remorse last week when he wrote his name in toothpaste on the bathroom carpet.
Of course there were no more rest stops before our exit, so we drove 30 more minutes and pulled into a Red Lobster parking lot and began searching for the missing tooth. Happy to report that within mere minutes the tooth, roughly the size of a sesame seed, was retrieved. Mortified to think what I would have done with the tooth had I searched first, because even after I held it and examined it, I did not think it was a regulation tooth. Kids are so tiny.
The tooth was then transferred to a Ziploc baggie (Are we sure it's a Ziploc?) and then onto my wife's purse, which is the best place on Earth if you need to keep something sacred, but the worst if you need to find it quickly. Luckily we had the time.
That night, my wife came up with a second ingenious idea...instead of giving our daughter money for the tooth, we'd give her one of those stupid dollar coins instead. (Stop. I'm well aware those dollar coins are legal tender, but really. You feel totally ripped off when you receive them, and you feel genuine relief when you give them. Plus they're gold-ish. So kids think they're worth over 12 bajillion dollars.)
Also, we bought our daughter a book about tooth loss that the Tooth Fairy herself signed and dated, and my wife slid that under her pillow with the coin. We'll do something similar 30 years from now, when we plan to start talking about the birds and the bees.
The next morning, my daughter found the book and the coin and glided out to the living room to show her mother, then into our bedroom to show her brother and me. Cris(e)s averted. And the little brother is asking when he can start losing teeth. Let's hope he doesn't watch the Jackass movies.
The Tooth Fairy
We all sat up a little straighter today, then, when trudging between Blue Mountain and Carlisle, from deep in the third row came a sudden announcement from a person we thought should have been sleeping or at least been engrossed in something electronic: "Hey, my tooth came out..."
This is a big deal. We (mostly the kid) had been leery of this day since the day the first tooth wiggled a little. Does it hurt when it comes out? What if my mouth bleeds? What if it comes out when I'm sleeping? What if I swallow it? What if the tooth fairy forgets to show up? Do I really need to tie it to a moving car to get it out like they did in the Jackass movie?
Fortunately, the answer to these was either No or N/A. We were relieved that there were no hysterical tears from the girl who has mastered hysterical tears for everything from elbow scrapes to commercials before YouTube videos. And on the turnpike no less, with the next rest stop a helpful 244 miles away and possibly closed for renovations.
Very soon a critical error was made, as critical errors often follow kids around like little brothers. Always the helpful type, she tried to open a juice box for her brother, the three-year-old, and entrusted him with the tooth. Predictably, within seconds the tooth was gone. Four minutes after her first baby tooth extracted itself without incident, we had lost the tooth. Cue the hysterical tears. On the turnpike, no less. With the next rest stop now just 239 miles away.
Fortunately, my wife is tremendous with this stuff. She already had three alternate plans available for the Tooth Fairy:
1. We'll write a letter to the tooth fairy and explain the mishap.
2. We'll provide a reasonable facsimile of the tooth from stones from the driveway.
3. <biggest longshot> We'll pull over and find the tooth.
Remarkably, this eased my daughter's concerns. Even more remarkably, for the first time in his young life, the three-year-old boy showed remorse for something he was directly responsible for. He was genuinely hurt that he had lost his sister's prized tooth. "We'll find it, I PROMISE, it was a accident," he explained in a pitch-perfect attempt at damage control. I would have liked to have seen similar remorse last week when he wrote his name in toothpaste on the bathroom carpet.
Of course there were no more rest stops before our exit, so we drove 30 more minutes and pulled into a Red Lobster parking lot and began searching for the missing tooth. Happy to report that within mere minutes the tooth, roughly the size of a sesame seed, was retrieved. Mortified to think what I would have done with the tooth had I searched first, because even after I held it and examined it, I did not think it was a regulation tooth. Kids are so tiny.
The tooth was then transferred to a Ziploc baggie (Are we sure it's a Ziploc?) and then onto my wife's purse, which is the best place on Earth if you need to keep something sacred, but the worst if you need to find it quickly. Luckily we had the time.
That night, my wife came up with a second ingenious idea...instead of giving our daughter money for the tooth, we'd give her one of those stupid dollar coins instead. (Stop. I'm well aware those dollar coins are legal tender, but really. You feel totally ripped off when you receive them, and you feel genuine relief when you give them. Plus they're gold-ish. So kids think they're worth over 12 bajillion dollars.)
Also, we bought our daughter a book about tooth loss that the Tooth Fairy herself signed and dated, and my wife slid that under her pillow with the coin. We'll do something similar 30 years from now, when we plan to start talking about the birds and the bees.
The next morning, my daughter found the book and the coin and glided out to the living room to show her mother, then into our bedroom to show her brother and me. Cris(e)s averted. And the little brother is asking when he can start losing teeth. Let's hope he doesn't watch the Jackass movies.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Memorial Day Weekend
Not sure if I knew this and forgot it or never knew this, but Memorial Day used to be celebrated annually on May 30. In the early 1970s it was changed to the last Monday in May to create three-day weekends for the American workforce. There has been a movement for some time to re-establish May 30 as the official holiday. The thought is that by creating a three-day weekend of picnics, parties, pool openings, and ushering in the unofficial start of summer, people are losing sight of the reason why for celebrating the holiday in the first place.
While that may sound a little crotchety and "back-in-my-day"-ish, the point is well-taken. As someone who lives far away from most relatives, Government-sponsored three-day weekends are golden. But there is no reason why we can't take the time on May 30 to fly the flag at half staff until noon or to mark a moment of remembrance for our nation's fallen heroes in addition to the normal Memorial Day weekend blowouts.
Speaking of blowouts, are Memorial Day parades ever advertised? To be fair, I was never a big fan of parades before I was a father, but now that we have kids, I enjoy them even less. Still, we can tell you the exact minute of the Rose Bowl Parade, Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, and most St. Patrick's Day drunkenfests, but I seem to never know when and where the Memorial Day parade is, or if there even is one in my town.
Essentially, parents, take it from a teacher's husband that if you want to save yourself a little embarrassment on Tuesday when/if their teacher asks, take a few minutes this weekend to remind your children that the reason we are celebrating this weekend is not so we remember "to open our beach house" or "to uncover the pool." That is, if you might be embarrassed by those sorts of things. Your kids are just reporting the facts.
To see ways to appropriately celebrate Memorial Day, click here.
While that may sound a little crotchety and "back-in-my-day"-ish, the point is well-taken. As someone who lives far away from most relatives, Government-sponsored three-day weekends are golden. But there is no reason why we can't take the time on May 30 to fly the flag at half staff until noon or to mark a moment of remembrance for our nation's fallen heroes in addition to the normal Memorial Day weekend blowouts.
Speaking of blowouts, are Memorial Day parades ever advertised? To be fair, I was never a big fan of parades before I was a father, but now that we have kids, I enjoy them even less. Still, we can tell you the exact minute of the Rose Bowl Parade, Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, and most St. Patrick's Day drunkenfests, but I seem to never know when and where the Memorial Day parade is, or if there even is one in my town.
Essentially, parents, take it from a teacher's husband that if you want to save yourself a little embarrassment on Tuesday when/if their teacher asks, take a few minutes this weekend to remind your children that the reason we are celebrating this weekend is not so we remember "to open our beach house" or "to uncover the pool." That is, if you might be embarrassed by those sorts of things. Your kids are just reporting the facts.
To see ways to appropriately celebrate Memorial Day, click here.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Take Your Daddy to School Day
Monday I volunteered in my daughter's kindergarten classroom. My work provides us two volunteer days annually to "give back" to the community, and while the company doesn't specify exactly how they should be used, it seems one of those days should be used to do something constructive -- literally, like building a house for paralyzed orphans with the corporate logo emblazoned on the siding-- but, according to my interpretation, the other day can be used for something else altogether.
I chose the something else altogether.
Plenty of corporate ninnies such as myself have done the volunteer-in-the-classroom thing before, and after two hours, are backpedaling out the door, flattering themselves and humblebragging all the way..."I'm used to giving daily speeches in front of high-powered Fortune 500 investment consortiums in fluent Mandarin, but these kids wiped me out! Especially the one who needed his shoes tied! I have such an appreciation for what you teachers do and..." and before he can finish his thought, he's back to closing another deal or haggling over a corner office with the view of the mountainside.
I did not do this to gain an appreciation of the teaching profession and what teachers go through on a daily basis-- I'm already keenly aware of that, being the son of four parents who taught everything from kindergarten to college, and then marrying another teacher myself. I know what they go through. The $250 pre-Adjusted Gross Income tax deduction for out-of-pocket classroom expenses is a joke. (Teachers spend way more than that.) The eight weeks they get off in the middle of the summer should be sixteen and should come with an all-inclusive week-long getaway to Any Place That Doesn't Have Kids.
No, I did this for my daughter. It gets harder to spend time with just one kid as your family grows, and until she develops a genuine interest in sitting down with her old man and watching an entire hockey game on tape delay, it won't get easier. (I'm still waiting.) We could have just gone and got ice cream while her two clueless younger brothers played tug-of-war with the Slinky, but I thought maybe this would mean a little more. I also banked on her not being old enough to make the gag reflex when she heard of my plan.
"I can't wait until Monday!" she squealed when I told her on Friday. This will be the last time she looks forward to a Monday on a Friday for the rest of her life, so already it's a little special.
________________________________________________________________
Having not been in a real, live kindergarten classroom since I was young enough to consistently pee my pants without serious repercussion, I wasn't totally sure what to expect. My wife, who teaches in the same building, gave me three simple pieces of advice to get me through:
1. Be yourself.
2. Don't follow the teacher around like a puppy dog.
3. If you break the copy machine, we will kill you.
Copy machine? Nobody told me there would be a copy machine. I was seriously worried about making copies, not because I thought I was above it, but because my own history with the machine at work was not stellar. I feared a stack of papers shaped like church fans or a call into the repairman. Probably both. I don't know how to "collate" anything. This may be a bad idea.
Luckily, there was very little copying to be done that day, and they have a really nice, user-friendly machine that doesn't ask you 13 detailed questions before it lets you make a copy. I actually would have killed myself if I had done it any harm.
I met all of my daughter's classmates throughout the day. We chit-chatted while they completed their work assignments. They called me Mr. Jonathan and Mr. Criswell and Mrs. Daddy (gender confusion is hilarious even at the kindergarten level.) In our spare time we played Restaurant, where I could order anything I wanted, and it was pretend-handed to me by an eager and plentiful wait staff. We danced. Actually we didn't dance, we stood and acted as a de facto twirling post for the girls in the class, so they could hold our hand up high and twirl beneath it. When kindergarten girls have an excuse to twirl, they don't pass up the opportunity to twirl. We could have twirled some more.
We goofed around at lunch, watching her best friend try to eat cherries and spit out the pits without it looking like this. (She failed.) We stood quietly in line as we exited the cafeteria because nobody leaves the cafeteria until every single person is quiet. [We very suddenly had horrible flashbacks to 4th grade, when our homeroom teacher drained every last bit of recess from our hyperactive bodies by applying that same Draconian "nobody gets recess until are silent" law to 200 third- and fourth-graders. We couldn't stand that woman.]
In the afternoon, we listened helplessly as one boy burped 27 times in our faces because he could, and he thought we'd enjoy his little gift to us. We were powerless to send him to the principal's office, so we waited him out and humored him. He had more staying power and air than we anticipated. We read books, we did math, we went to music class. School might have changed some in the last 30 years, but other than the paddle no longer hanging on the wall, it hasn't changed too much.
My daughter thoroughly enjoyed having her dad there. She would often come sit on my lap, something she rarely does at home any more. She was showing me off, which was fun, because I often do the same to her in public. This day was her turn.
But she wasn't the only one to show affection. One boy and one girl also put their arms around me. The girl informed me that I smell like her dad. I asked if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She made an X out of her index fingers. I have no idea what that meant.
When the school day was over, we prepared to leave, and my wife caught us and said, "Oh good, you can pick up the other two from Day Care." What? The day is over, no? No, it's just begun. And there is the level of appreciation...dealing with two dozen six-year-olds is one thing. But when there's was a part of you that wants to get in the car and drive in a straight line for about 2 hours, you've got to summon up some more energy. Energy for the 1-year-old and the 3-year-old who haven't seen you all day and who expect you to provide unlimited chocolate milk and officiate their arguments about who gets to stand closer to your legs. This is why you get the call at 7:30 at night asking how much longer it will be until you get home.
But this day was about the girl, and the obvious follow-up question persisted, "Are you going to come to my class again soon, Daddy?" which received the answer, "How about when you're in 1st grade?"
Maybe this will become a tradition that lasts until she's old enough to gag at the thought.
I chose the something else altogether.
Plenty of corporate ninnies such as myself have done the volunteer-in-the-classroom thing before, and after two hours, are backpedaling out the door, flattering themselves and humblebragging all the way..."I'm used to giving daily speeches in front of high-powered Fortune 500 investment consortiums in fluent Mandarin, but these kids wiped me out! Especially the one who needed his shoes tied! I have such an appreciation for what you teachers do and..." and before he can finish his thought, he's back to closing another deal or haggling over a corner office with the view of the mountainside.
I did not do this to gain an appreciation of the teaching profession and what teachers go through on a daily basis-- I'm already keenly aware of that, being the son of four parents who taught everything from kindergarten to college, and then marrying another teacher myself. I know what they go through. The $250 pre-Adjusted Gross Income tax deduction for out-of-pocket classroom expenses is a joke. (Teachers spend way more than that.) The eight weeks they get off in the middle of the summer should be sixteen and should come with an all-inclusive week-long getaway to Any Place That Doesn't Have Kids.
No, I did this for my daughter. It gets harder to spend time with just one kid as your family grows, and until she develops a genuine interest in sitting down with her old man and watching an entire hockey game on tape delay, it won't get easier. (I'm still waiting.) We could have just gone and got ice cream while her two clueless younger brothers played tug-of-war with the Slinky, but I thought maybe this would mean a little more. I also banked on her not being old enough to make the gag reflex when she heard of my plan.
"I can't wait until Monday!" she squealed when I told her on Friday. This will be the last time she looks forward to a Monday on a Friday for the rest of her life, so already it's a little special.
________________________________________________________________
Having not been in a real, live kindergarten classroom since I was young enough to consistently pee my pants without serious repercussion, I wasn't totally sure what to expect. My wife, who teaches in the same building, gave me three simple pieces of advice to get me through:
1. Be yourself.
2. Don't follow the teacher around like a puppy dog.
3. If you break the copy machine, we will kill you.
Copy machine? Nobody told me there would be a copy machine. I was seriously worried about making copies, not because I thought I was above it, but because my own history with the machine at work was not stellar. I feared a stack of papers shaped like church fans or a call into the repairman. Probably both. I don't know how to "collate" anything. This may be a bad idea.
Luckily, there was very little copying to be done that day, and they have a really nice, user-friendly machine that doesn't ask you 13 detailed questions before it lets you make a copy. I actually would have killed myself if I had done it any harm.
I met all of my daughter's classmates throughout the day. We chit-chatted while they completed their work assignments. They called me Mr. Jonathan and Mr. Criswell and Mrs. Daddy (gender confusion is hilarious even at the kindergarten level.) In our spare time we played Restaurant, where I could order anything I wanted, and it was pretend-handed to me by an eager and plentiful wait staff. We danced. Actually we didn't dance, we stood and acted as a de facto twirling post for the girls in the class, so they could hold our hand up high and twirl beneath it. When kindergarten girls have an excuse to twirl, they don't pass up the opportunity to twirl. We could have twirled some more.
We goofed around at lunch, watching her best friend try to eat cherries and spit out the pits without it looking like this. (She failed.) We stood quietly in line as we exited the cafeteria because nobody leaves the cafeteria until every single person is quiet. [We very suddenly had horrible flashbacks to 4th grade, when our homeroom teacher drained every last bit of recess from our hyperactive bodies by applying that same Draconian "nobody gets recess until are silent" law to 200 third- and fourth-graders. We couldn't stand that woman.]
In the afternoon, we listened helplessly as one boy burped 27 times in our faces because he could, and he thought we'd enjoy his little gift to us. We were powerless to send him to the principal's office, so we waited him out and humored him. He had more staying power and air than we anticipated. We read books, we did math, we went to music class. School might have changed some in the last 30 years, but other than the paddle no longer hanging on the wall, it hasn't changed too much.
My daughter thoroughly enjoyed having her dad there. She would often come sit on my lap, something she rarely does at home any more. She was showing me off, which was fun, because I often do the same to her in public. This day was her turn.
But she wasn't the only one to show affection. One boy and one girl also put their arms around me. The girl informed me that I smell like her dad. I asked if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She made an X out of her index fingers. I have no idea what that meant.
When the school day was over, we prepared to leave, and my wife caught us and said, "Oh good, you can pick up the other two from Day Care." What? The day is over, no? No, it's just begun. And there is the level of appreciation...dealing with two dozen six-year-olds is one thing. But when there's was a part of you that wants to get in the car and drive in a straight line for about 2 hours, you've got to summon up some more energy. Energy for the 1-year-old and the 3-year-old who haven't seen you all day and who expect you to provide unlimited chocolate milk and officiate their arguments about who gets to stand closer to your legs. This is why you get the call at 7:30 at night asking how much longer it will be until you get home.
But this day was about the girl, and the obvious follow-up question persisted, "Are you going to come to my class again soon, Daddy?" which received the answer, "How about when you're in 1st grade?"
Maybe this will become a tradition that lasts until she's old enough to gag at the thought.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Parenting Pyramid
We're playing Parenthood Pyramid today. If you're not familiar with the rules and procedures for playing the bonus round of the old $25,000 Pyramid, hosted by Dick Clark, you can see it played at its finest here. In the interest of equal time, if you want to see how hard it usually is, click here but skip to the part where they actually play the game.
We're not playing today with Billy Crystal or Vicki Lawrence or that other guy, we're playing with Phyllis Diller. I don't know why. So strap yourself in, literally, put 60 seconds on the clock, cue the knife-in-the-back, psycho-sounding counting down seconds that only serve to add to the tension and get ready to play Parenthood Pyramid.
For 25,000 dollars. Here is your first subject. Go!
Phyllis Diller: Blocks. Books.
Me: Things kids play with?
PD: Blocks, trucks, mom's hair dryer...
Me: Things my kids use as blunt object weapons
<applause>
PD: "Well, I fell face first into the corner of the coffee table the other day and nobody moved an inch to help me. My dad even seemed genuinely annoyed. I'm sure when my Princess big sister did the same thing 5 years ago, they debated calling the god-damned ambulance..."
Me: Things a third child would say...
<applause>
PD: Ketchup, mustard...
Me: condiments?
PD: Ketchup...mayonnaise... mustard...uhhh...
Me: Things you put on a sandwich...things you put on a hot dog...
PD: KETCHUP. 12,000 cheese doodles...
Me: What my 3-year-old ate for dinner last night
<applause>
PD: The Infantino Go Ga Ga Deluxe Twist and Fold Gym, the Fisher-Price Snugamonkey Deluxe Newborn Rock 'n' Play Sleeper
Me: <shaking my head>
PD: The Fisher-Price Discover 'n' Grow Kick & Play Piano Gym
Me: <shaking my head> Pass
PD: Pass
Dick Clark: Next...
PD: The bathroom. The garage. The shed...
Me: Parts of your house
PD: <nodding> The garage, the kitchen, the bathroom...
Me: Rooms in your house...bad places to have lit candles...
PD: <nodding furiously> The BATHROOM...the kitchen. The BATHROOM.
Me: Places I can never go by myself for 2 minutes
<applause>
PD: Diaper rash. Uhhh... <struggling, pausing> Severe diaper rash.
PD: Diaper rash. Uhhh... <struggling, pausing> Severe diaper rash.
Me: Pink things that show up on your ass.
PD: Diaper rash, mosquito bites...
Me: Things that hurt, things you probably shouldn't scratch, things you put ointment on...
PD: <nodding> Mosquito bites; screaming contests; excessive bathtub splashing; dump trucks in the toilet; anything that talks like Elmo, Chica, or Caillou; lost shoes; the impossibly high number of snaps at the bottom of a toddler's pair of sweatpants...
Me: Things that are irritating.
<applause> (and maybe a "woo" from the crowd)
Dick Clark: Hurry, hurry!
PD: <flustered> Uhh....uhhhhhh... the Skip Hop Hug-N-Hide Tummytime Mat that looks like an owl, the Bright Starts Pretty in Pink Giggle Garden Activity Gym, the Infantino Go Ga Ga Deluxe Twist and Fold Gym....
Me: <equally flustered> Umm...uhhh...
Buzzer: BUUUUUUZZZZZ
Me: <sighing, leaning back in chair> Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh....
PD: <sighing, leaning back in chair> Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
Crowd: <sighing> Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww....
Dick Clark: <with hand on my back> Let me see if I can help here. A pacifier.
Me: <rolling my eyes> Baby things! I should have known that...I even have kids back at home in Delaware...
Dick Clark: Well that is a shame. Let's see here, 3, 550, 7, 8 hundred and 50 dollars.
PD: <to me> I'm so sorry.
Me: <to PD, as I shake her hand with both of my hands and as we outro to a NutraSweet commercial, barely audible over the music> It's OK Phyllis, I should have known it...
Join us next week when we our guests are Teresa Ganzel and, from Hotel, Nathan Cook. For now, Dick Clark, so long.
"We spend the first twelve months of our children's lives teaching them to walk and talk and the next twelve telling them to sit down and shut up." Phyllis Diller