The incessant demanding of material items viewed on television, specifically marketed to young children at a time in which is most likely to result in a favorable manner for the child and the toy manufactures.
The evil ones know my weakness. You can requests just about anything from me (flame thrower maybe?) before 8am and several cups of coffee.
Today, at 7am, I was forced to turn on non-commercial free cartoons because Blues Clues and Mickey Mouse just weren't cutting it for my fickle toddler. After multiple trips through the cartoon channel line-up, we decided to go with Phineas and Ferb. Not a bad show in it's own right. Kinda cute actually, and a nice alternative to the typical toddler shows that make me want to beat my head against a wall repeatedly. Anyone who's sat and watched hour after hour of Little Bear, Little Bill, Franklin, Max n Ruby, or Ni Hao Kai-Lan can attest to my pain.
It also wasn't Spongebob which I detest. So a small personal victory. ya!
The first commercial was for a Barbie princess castle. It was bright pink, Barbie was wearing a ball gown similar to Cinderella and small plastic heels. I knew instantly this would send the husband into hysterics that would result in a downward spiral of self doubt about his ability to raise a masculine son.
Next was a commercial for Handy Manny's fix-it motorcycle with side car. The tools would ride along enjoying the breeze on their steely faces and could at a moments notice hop out, do their tool thing, detach the side car and Manny could have a chopper. Nice! [nodding in approval]
I turn and glance at Tyler, smile and give a thumbs up. Nothing. Bummer.
And moving on to the next commercial.
Bakugan. The next commercial was for Bakugan. The small battle
robots, transformers, action figures heck I don't know what they are but Tyler lurched forward and stared with his mouth half open. The commercial continued to suck my child in with his pointing, and head nodding and constant Ya, Ya, Ya, Ya, Ya's. Then it came.
I want!I looked back at the screen and all I could see in my mind were these small things taking over my house, being flung at me in fits of rage, and strewn all over the floor with their sharp pointy edges just lying in wait to poke me in the foot in a darken hallway after accidentally stepping on them for the 100th time.
Mama, I want!
I made a cringey face. I don't want to step on something pointy, it'll hurt.
So I turned to Tyler with a compromise.
How about a nice stuffed Elmo doll? Wouldn't that be a nice safe toy to play with? [nodding]I got a short, curt NO response and a head shake to my obviously ridiculous question.
[embarrassed laugh] Silly mommy, what was I thinking.So I busted out the mommy secret weapon.
The "maybe" response. The "maybe" response is genius because we mommy's can give our child hope without looking like the bad guy. We can escape sticky situations while diverting attention away from the item in question. But our "maybe" response is not delivered with qualifications therefore the promise can be recalled later and blamed on disapproving behavior of the child. It's fool proof!
Maybe, buddy. We'll see. Let's go get changed for the sitters now.Tomorrow, it's back to Noggin.