Not that I necessarily know what I'm talking about here

Although I was once myself a child and have, indeed, known many children throughout the course of my long life - and was sometimes even in (temporary) charge of those children - no, I have never been a parent. Just a kid, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, a friend. So I don't necessarily know what I'm talking about here. But still...

The other day, late afternoon, I was walking through the Boston Public Garden when I passed a Beacon Hill mother dragging her two kids around on a little plastic sled. The kids were a little girl about 3/3.5 and her brother, who appeared to be a bit pre-one - maybe 10 or 11 months old. 

Anyway, the little girl was fussy, screaming at her mother. And I do mean screaming at her mother. "Stop. I don't want to do this."

It was late in the afternoon. Kids get tired, hungry, cranky. Maybe she hadn't gotten her nap in. Maybe she was cold. Maybe she just wanted to go home. All perfectly understandable.

The mother, quite reasonably, stopped and quite reasonably, told her daughter that she could get out and walk.

"No," the little girl screamed even louder. "I don't want to get out. I want Wills to get out." Wills being her baby brother. 

It struck me that there were a couple of quite reasonable responses that the mother could have made:

1. She could have told her crankster little girl that she understood that she was tired, and that they'd head home.
2. She could have told her crankster little girl that, sure, they could take turns being dragged around in the sled. Wills first.

Of course, there are many other quite reasonable responses, some of which were not very nice or advisable, and yet would be understandable. As the mother might also be cranky, cold and tired. Like telling little Olivia, which I learned was her name, to just shut up. Even as a non-parent, I wouldn't advise this one. 

What the mother did elect to do, I wouldn't have advised either.

She took little Wills out of the sled, plunked him down in the snow, and started dragging little Olivia - now perfectly delighted to be solo in the sled - around in a circle, while Wills sat there, stiff in his little snow suit, looking increasingly cranky, cold, and tired. And casting an increasingly cranky, cold, and tired eye on Olivia, gleefully enjoying the ride while her mother raced her around yelling "Whee...."

This struck me as a not particularly good solution to the problem of a cranky, cold, and tired 3/3.5 year old who just plain wanted something, and wanted something at the expense of her baby brother. 

This struck me as setting this child up to think she could always get her way. To becoming someone who'd turn into what we used to call a spoiled brat. 

Maybe it was a one off, a moment of maternal weakness on a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I sure hope so.

But what do I know? As I said, it's not that I necessarily know what I'm talking about here.

Then there's the ad for Inspired Closets. 

In this little slice-of-life-that-no-one-in-the-history-of-mankind-ever-lived, mother and daughter are in a very inspired walk-in closet that's about the size of my bedroom. Straight out of an HGTV fantasy playbook. 

Mom's back is to the camera, and Sophia - six-ish - is looking sad. They're having a little heart-to-heart convo. And mom is all assurance. 

Sophia, it's beautiful... You are a very, very talented girl... You're really gifted...You made many good decisions. 

When the mother says "I love it," Sophia, in a moment of absolute self-awareness and truthiness, says "I don't believe you."

By now, we see mom's face, which is insanely made up. Too much blush. Too much eye shadow. And way, way, way too much lipstick, which surrounds mom's mouth in a bright red smear that would do a clown proud.

Okay, you don't want to crap on your kid for trying, but to me it would have made a lot more sense if the mom had told Sophia that it was a really good first try. That it was really fun to do this together, and that they'd practice again. That it was probably a bit too much for a barbecue, which is where they were headed. That they could now practice the use of cold cream. Or whatever.

Instead, mom has to go all over the top with the very, very talented, the gifted, the good decisions. Because, I can assure you, that, while Sophia may well be talented, gifted, and capable of making many, many, many good decisions, none of this has anything whatsoever to do with her capability when it comes to make up artistry. Which is completely absent. 

The ad ends with daughter and mom - who, in her long black dress and cool chunky necklace is not exactly dressed to go off to any barbecue I've ever been to; she looks like she's heading out to happy hour with her girlfriends - happily heading out the door of the inspired closet.

Here's the problem I see with this.

They're going to get to the barbecue, and all the adults are going to give mom a look. Now, the look may be a "looks like Sophia's playing makeup" look or a "just being a mom" look, but Sophia is old enough and smart enough to pick up on something being off.

The younger kids will come up to Sophia and ask her what's wrong with her mother's face. And the older, meaner kids will make fun of her mother for looking like a clown.

Sophia will be totally humiliated. She already knew, in her heart of hearts, that the makeup was a mess. That she's not that talented, that she didn't make good decisions. And that her mother is a liar.

That's my take anyway. 

Then again, it's not that I necessarily know what I'm talking about here.