Brian Kantz, Buffalo, NY-based writer and editor

THE NEWBIE DAD - NOVEMBER 2007

ANSWERS FROM THE TODDLER COMPLAINT LINE

Some people say children should be seen and not heard. Wow, those people are really mean. In our household, we honor the Democratic process. We hold freedom of speech dear to our hearts. We love to watch baseball and gorge ourselves on hot dogs and apple pie. And in this grand tradition, I decided to open a Toddler Complaint Line for our just-turned-three-year-old son. He’s getting to be a big boy now; he should have his say. The TCL is a fair-and-square way for the boy to learn about the judicial process. What follows is a transcript of recent complaints and their resolutions.

Toddler Complaint: “Cold! Cold! Wet! Stop it! Stop it!”

Translation: Those baby wipes are #$%@! freezing, man. When you change my diaper in the morning, it’s just plain wrong. Plus, the wipes are too wet. It’s very uncomfortable. Why can’t you spring for one of those baby wipe warmers?

Decision: Complaint DENIED. While it is true that the wipes are indeed cold and wet in the morning, you do have a suitable alternative: make an effort on the potty training, pal. As for the baby wipe warmer, nice try. Next complaint…

Toddler Complaint: “Ehhhh! Too hard!”

Translation: When my nose is running, you approach with a Kleenex and wipe my nose entirely too hard. A gentle dab will do, thank you very much. You don’t have to smear my face off.

Decision: Complaint DENIED. Sure, I could ease up a bit. But, hey, when you’re squirming and the mucous is flowing, clean up takes a very vigorous effort. I only do this because I love you… and because your grandmother used to smear my face off like that.

Toddler Complaint: “No! No! No more tickling!” (Said while laughing hysterically on the ground.)

Translation: Surprise tickle attacks scare the bejeezus out of me. I’m small; I have no defense. If you must tickle me, please, a little warning would be nice.

Decision: Complaint DENIED. C’mon, what’s the fun of being a parent — and the rule maker — without surprise tickle attacks? The surprise is the best part. You can handle it. But just remember, surprise tickle attacks on me when you’re older and I’m in the nursing home will not produce laughter.

Toddler Complaint: “Ahhhhhhh!!!” (Said while holding his ears.)

Translation: Seriously, your singing voice is terrible, dude. You wouldn’t sing like that in front of anyone else, so why subject me to the torture? Ever hear of lip-syncing?

Decision: Complaint DENIED. OK, I admit it, I’m no great crooner. But, it’s fun, right? Turning on some music with nobody else home. A little singing, a little dancing. You know you love it. If I stopped singing ’80s hits to you today, right now, you’d be begging me to put that red pot on my head and sing one more rendition of “Whip It” by lunchtime.

Toddler Complaint: “Yuck! Get it out of my mouth!”

Translation: That was a dirty trick. You told me this was green candy. It’s no such thing. It’s an icky vegetable. Why do I have to eat vegetables anyway?”

Decision: Complaint DENIED. The trickery? Yes, that seems wrong. However, it’s an accepted tactic in the parenting rulebook. You could look it up. Section 4. Rule 12.2 states: “While deceiving your child is wrong in every other circumstance in life, you may lie about vegetables because kids hate vegetables so much, but vegetables are so good for them.” Ha. There you go.

Toddler Complaint: “I wanna play! I wanna play!”

Translation: You introduced me to playing baseball in the living room. You got me hooked. You can’t take that away now just because I knocked Mommy’s WillowTree figurine off the shelf and broke the Angel of Friendship’s head off.

Decision: Complaint DENIED. True, I did introduce you to the sport. But, it’s in both of our best interests to stop at one broken figurine. So, I’m stating emphatically for the record, no more ball playing in the house.

(Just had to state that for the record, son. Don’t worry, we’ll play as soon as mommy leaves for work.)

Toddler Complaint: “Really?” (Complaint lodged by mommy on behalf of clueless son.)

Translation: The clothes you dressed him in today do not match at all. And he looks like a little ragamuffin. Do you know this is a pajama shirt? You didn’t take him out in public that way, did you?

Decision: Complaint DENIED. You dress him your way, honey, I’ll dress him mine. That’s a pajama shirt?

So, there you have it, the Democratic process in action. Any more complaints?


Brian Kantz



		© 2008 Brian Kantz • All rights reserved • Contact Brian

	THE NEWBIE DAD - NOVEMBER 2007 ANSWERS FROM THE TODDLER COMPLAINT LINE Some people say children should be seen and not heard. Wow, those people are really mean. In our household, we honor the Democratic process. We hold freedom of speech dear to our hearts. We love to watch baseball and gorge ourselves on hot dogs and apple pie. And in this grand tradition, I decided to open a Toddler Complaint Line for our just-turned-three-year-old son. He’s getting to be a big boy now; he should have his say. The TCL is a fair-and-square way for the boy to learn about the judicial process. What follows is a transcript of recent complaints and their resolutions. Toddler Complaint: “Cold! Cold! Wet! Stop it! Stop it!” Translation: Those baby wipes are #$%@! freezing, man. When you change my diaper in the morning, it’s just plain wrong. Plus, the wipes are too wet. It’s very uncomfortable. Why can’t you spring for one of those baby wipe warmers? Decision: Complaint DENIED. While it is true that the wipes are indeed cold and wet in the morning, you do have a suitable alternative: make an effort on the potty training, pal. As for the baby wipe warmer, nice try. Next complaint… Toddler Complaint: “Ehhhh! Too hard!” Translation: When my nose is running, you approach with a Kleenex and wipe my nose entirely too hard. A gentle dab will do, thank you very much. You don’t have to smear my face off. Decision: Complaint DENIED. Sure, I could ease up a bit. But, hey, when you’re squirming and the mucous is flowing, clean up takes a very vigorous effort. I only do this because I love you… and because your grandmother used to smear my face off like that. Toddler Complaint: “No! No! No more tickling!” (Said while laughing hysterically on the ground.) Translation: Surprise tickle attacks scare the bejeezus out of me. I’m small; I have no defense. If you must tickle me, please, a little warning would be nice. Decision: Complaint DENIED. C’mon, what’s the fun of being a parent — and the rule maker — without surprise tickle attacks? The surprise is the best part. You can handle it. But just remember, surprise tickle attacks on me when you’re older and I’m in the nursing home will not produce laughter. Toddler Complaint: “Ahhhhhhh!!!” (Said while holding his ears.) Translation: Seriously, your singing voice is terrible, dude. You wouldn’t sing like that in front of anyone else, so why subject me to the torture? Ever hear of lip-syncing? Decision: Complaint DENIED. OK, I admit it, I’m no great crooner. But, it’s fun, right? Turning on some music with nobody else home. A little singing, a little dancing. You know you love it. If I stopped singing ’80s hits to you today, right now, you’d be begging me to put that red pot on my head and sing one more rendition of “Whip It” by lunchtime. Toddler Complaint: “Yuck! Get it out of my mouth!” Translation: That was a dirty trick. You told me this was green candy. It’s no such thing. It’s an icky vegetable. Why do I have to eat vegetables anyway?” Decision: Complaint DENIED. The trickery? Yes, that seems wrong. However, it’s an accepted tactic in the parenting rulebook. You could look it up. Section 4. Rule 12.2 states: “While deceiving your child is wrong in every other circumstance in life, you may lie about vegetables because kids hate vegetables so much, but vegetables are so good for them.” Ha. There you go. Toddler Complaint: “I wanna play! I wanna play!” Translation: You introduced me to playing baseball in the living room. You got me hooked. You can’t take that away now just because I knocked Mommy’s WillowTree figurine off the shelf and broke the Angel of Friendship’s head off. Decision: Complaint DENIED. True, I did introduce you to the sport. But, it’s in both of our best interests to stop at one broken figurine. So, I’m stating emphatically for the record, no more ball playing in the house. (Just had to state that for the record, son. Don’t worry, we’ll play as soon as mommy leaves for work.) Toddler Complaint: “Really?” (Complaint lodged by mommy on behalf of clueless son.) Translation: The clothes you dressed him in today do not match at all. And he looks like a little ragamuffin. Do you know this is a pajama shirt? You didn’t take him out in public that way, did you? Decision: Complaint DENIED. You dress him your way, honey, I’ll dress him mine. That’s a pajama shirt? So, there you have it, the Democratic process in action. Any more complaints?