Tag Archives: poem about kids

Teaching Our Kids to be Violent

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Teaching Our Kids to Be Violent

I’m in a very busy outside restaurant on the plaza in La Manzanilla, Mexico.  To the front and side of me are two long tables filled with 13 adults, children and teens who seem to be members of the same family.  When I first entered, the littlest girl in the family was sitting on the lap of her auntie or her mom, mugging for “sorta selfies” taken by her mom/auntie who was using some app to horribly distort the photos.  All were laughing uproarously at the monstrous images.

Then the child moved to the end of the table, where someone had removed the long cellophane-plumed toothpicks that had held their sandwiches together. Grabbing two of the toothpicks, she proceeded to jab the pointed end of one of them into the arm of one of the young women at the table. 

Waiting for chastisement, I was sorely disappointed, as what I imagine to be an auntie giggled and then grabbed the other toothpick and jabbed her back. Back and forth they went, all of the adults at the table smiling and laughing as though it was the most adorable little performance in the world.  In time, the child went down the table, jabbing with more enthusiasm each time, moving to the other table where eventually she jabbed so violently that the adult slapped her.  She slapped the adult back and a slapping match ensued.  Everyone watched, smiling, giggling. Such an adorable child! 

She moved away from the slapping match and sneaked up on a more elderly member of the party, approaching her from behind to take a hard jab with the point of the toothpick into the flesh of the woman’s upper arm.  The woman jerked away in surprise, slapping at the arm as though she believed it to be a wasp or bee sting.  This brought great peals of laughter from the other table and the child returned to it to take her bows.  

At no point in this crazy string of behavior did any adult ever censure the child or display any emotion other than enjoyment and approbation. I, on the other hand, was totally horrified.  What they were teaching the child was fairly obvious.  They  were well-dressed and sophisticated-looking, modernly dressed—like city folk come to the beach who didn’t actually want to get sand between their toes.  The voices of the seeming other half of their party at the nearby table were louder than theirs—very loud, in fact, to the point that even some Mexican customers accustomed to the general noise of Mexico were glancing over in surprise. But the table where the child sat seemed more refined–in the level of their voices if not in their surprising acceptance of the increasing violence of the formerly angelic-looking little girl.

Was she the heir to a vast cartel empire? Was this part of her education in ruthlessness? Was their glee at her monstrous appearance on the smart phone just a hint of the monster child they would raise to carry on the family business?  As most scenarios begun in restaurants and other public places, this is a story whose ending I will never know. I leave it to your imagination to come up with an ending for yourself.

But I could not help seeing it as a small metaphor for the violence in films and games and sports entertainment that our kids are submerged in every day.  It seems as though movies and TV are resorting to ever more violent and extreme cruelties to keep our interest. War and murder are not enough. Sadistic twists and torture are called upon to keep the audiences and thereby swell the coffers of production companies and advertisers.

Years ago when violence first reared its ugly head on TV, we were told that it was a fantasy that would have no effect on children, but if we look at the world around us, I think this is an assertion that has been proven to be false. As some in our society grow ever more affluent, we grow increasing more dependent on entertainment to distract us from the reality around us, and part of that reality seems, sadly, to be that we are teaching our kids to be more violent.

 

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In Defense of Immaturity

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In Defense of Immaturity

Kids say immaturity
is not all it’s cracked up to be.
First, they have no salary,
and as of yet, ice cream’s not free,
so they depend on you and me
to determine when ice cream will be!

We tell them not to climb that tree
and put restrictions on TV.
We tell them that they have to pee
on potty chairs, not Grandpa’s knee.
We tell them they must walk, then see
each lurch and fall and laugh with glee.

Imagine notoriety
based on what one’s foibles be. 
Kids’ natural spontaneity—
their need to roughhouse, smash and flee
is often quashed, you will agree,
with all those in authority!

It’s tough to be a kid, you see,
given their great temerity.
So grant a bit of charity.
Recognize the disparity
between what we’d like kids to be
and their genetic heredity!

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/07/immature/

Highchair Fashionista

Enlarge all photos by clicking on any one.

 

Highchair Fashionista

Her mania for haute couture
came a little premature
when she first crawled across the floor,
wanting to see Grandma’s Dior.
When she took her first steps and fell,
it was reaching for Auntie’s Chanel.
The words she learned at Mama’s knee
were Calvin Klein and Givenchy.

Her alphabet from A to V

(from Armani up to Versace)
she learned in closets of her kin
dreaming of how she’d look in
Louis Vitton, Laurent, Bill Blass.
She’d be the best-dressed in her class
of other girls in cut-off jeans
and dresses made by mere machines.

Thus are fashionistas made.
As other children sell lemonade
or waste their days in hide-and-seek,
they are fingering La Fabrique
and looking at the fold and drape
of a model’s evening cape.
To each their own, we’re given to say,
and yet I’m prone to saying “Nay,
childhood might be better spent
in pastimes of another bent.”

I’d hope that kids from zero to twelve
might be more encouraged to delve
into comics or games or nature
with no stylish nomenclature.
Let kids be freakish, free and nerdy.
Let their clothes get torn and dirty.
Time enough for fashion cults
later, when they’re grown adults.

 

The prompt today was premature.

Recognition

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Recognition

Filthy little urchin, dirty little boy—
who could tell from looking that you’d be such a joy?
We never would have chosen you by following our nose,
but when we scraped the dirt off and laundered all your clothes,
we recognized you as our own, devoid of dirt and grime,
and now that you are  family and with us all the time,
mud puddles still attract you. Dirt piles call your name.
But now it doesn’t matter. We love you all the same.

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/filthy/

Upset Hat

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Upset Hat

It’s just a piece of cardboard rolled into a cone.
It really doesn’t make me look like a witchy crone.
I think it’s just a party hat—not really very scary.
It will not cause a single soul to commit hari-kari!

These masks are a formality– they really aren’t inspired,
but last year we liked our costumes ‘cause our grandmas both conspired
to make them more original, but this year just our dad
had time to help and so we know we’re looking kind of sad.

And after all his fussing and running out the door,
we find that all the candy’s gone and so we’re kind of sore.
They gave us bags of potato chips. They haven’t any candy.
And that is why our faces show that we’re not feeling dandy.

Don’t flip your lid, our papa said,
for you are better than that.
So I am trying to be cool…
It just upset my hat!

I used this prompt generator to generate the prompt “Upset Hat”  Try it it is fun! http://jennifernicholewells.blogspot.mx/2015/08/jnws-writing-photo-prompt-generator.html
http://jennifernicholewells.com/2015/08/13/topic-generator/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/breakdown/