As we pass the end of what the Gay Uncle likes to call “Candy Season”¯””a time period that begins at Halloween and lasts through January 1st””and enter the “Dour Season”¯ of weather-based lock-down and ambitious New Year”s resolutions, he has a few thoughts on how to manage children”s intake of fun compelling garbage like sweets, snacks, and TV.
Too many parents end up locked in constant battles over these forms of mindless fun, attempting to fend off their child”s desire, or completely restrict their access. This often ends up backfiring since a) kids love a fight, as it provides them a template and opportunity for engagement, and b) absolute limitations create a countervailing””and often stronger””desire for transgression.
Everyone knows just how alluring junk can be. Everyone knows just how good it feels to indulge. And it’s the G.U.’s belief that everyone (even kids) deserve some wanton happiness. So the goal””as with most things with young children””should not be to attempt to completely quash this profound desire, but to teach your kids how to have a healthy relationship with it.
Instead of creating unconditional and unachieveable rules and expectations, try what the G.U. calls the Co-Option Option (COO). Make clear protocols about when and for what duration treats like candy, snacks, and television can be consumed, and then stick to them. If kids know that dessert comes only on weekends, that they can watch fifteen minutes of Dora once they finish their chores, or that they can eat their fill of Cheetos when they visit their Gay Uncle””and that these are the only times that such things are generally allowed””they”ll be much more likely to understand that these are “treats”¯ to be controlled and doled out in limited quantities (and regulated–first externally, then internally), and much less likely to ask for them when these requirements aren”t met.
Happy 2009! As your New Years gift, The Gay Uncle just found something brand new for you to worry about! Third Hand Smoke. According to researchers, people with kids who think that the issues related to second hand smoke can be solved by inhaling with a fan on, with the minivan window cracked, or by hiding in the bathroom behind closed doors, are ignoring all the special super-secret toxins that are clinging to their skin and clothes, which then get passed on to their beloved offspring. The G.U. knew that smokers’ hair stinks–his mom smoked More menthols for his entire childhood, even, memorably, while breastfeeding his little brother–but he didn’t know it was POISONOUS!! According to the inflammatory article he skimmed in the Times, among the substances present in third-hand smoke are “hydrogen cyanide, used in chemical weapons; butane, which is used in lighter fluid; toluene, found in paint thinners; arsenic; lead; carbon monoxide; and even polonium-210, the highly radioactive carcinogen that was used to murder former Russian spy Alexander V. Litvinenko in 2006. Eleven of the compounds are highly carcinogenic.” The article does not say anything about the dangers of hanging out in a smoky Richmond go-go-boy bar, or a cigarette-fueled Key West lounge, (or of smoking substances other than tobacco) so Gunc thinks he will plead not-guilty if he’s ever accused of having an impact on his nieces’ lifespan, mental prowess (or lack thereof), or mysterious immunity to chemical weapons. But all you smoking parents might want to invest in a good shampoo.
The Gay Uncle had a chance to visit with his LA-based friends Kate and Dylan over the holiday season, and to see their charming little buggers Max (6) and Athena (3). The kids had spent the entire day out with their old babysitter Eleini–a campaign funded by the parents to give the adults some alone time–and when they returned to the apartment that evening, they were tired, wound up, and excited. The girl was thrilled that the sitter had given her a share of the per-diem her parents had provided for the day’s festivities, stuffing about ten bucks into her chihuahua-shaped purse. “I got some dollars!” she exclaimed. This reminded the G.U. of the story of this girl’s first word. Frequently mistaken by casual listeners, who would coo and smile, She’s saying Mommy Athena’s initial utterance was less familial and more…financial. Actually, Kate would correct them, She’s saying MONEY. 
Because it’s pouring down snow in upstate New York, because his mother-in-law just returned from the Galapagos, and because he is already dressed in his tuxedo for the black tie New Years festivities he attends every year at the fanciest local (rural) nightclubs, the Gay Uncle is naturally thinking of…penguins. Well, also because he recently received the following note from his pal Romi Lassally, genius mom and creator/editor of the amazing site 
The Gay Uncle spent five nights with his in-laws last week. (Yes, F-I-V-E. Send medals.) He enjoyed about three and a half nights of quality time during this period, some of it with his three nieces. But five nights means five movies. These screenings bring the family together, allow the G.U. to drink his in-laws’ good liquor for free, and keep him out of the scary bars in his b.f.’s small Southern hometown. Screening films also provides a modicum of peace in the house each evening; without them the girls tend to spiral out into whimpering and whining, depriving the adults of any…adult time. Since it’s the only reliable way to control for the “taste” of others (his father-in-law’s Netflix selections literally consisted of: Oceans 11-13, and Wild Hogs) he and his boyfriend placed themselves in charge of the video store runs. Now that the girls are approaching the double digits, and aspiring toward even higher ages, the Guncles felt it was time to begin sharing some of their favorite teen movies. They were careful to pick films that had only the most chaste sexual content, and absolutely no violence, gore, or killing. But there was plenty of what his mother-in-law calls “cussing”. This didn’t bother Gunc in the least. He doesn’t have a problem with kids hearing swearing, or even swearing themselves so long as they do it properly, and without being injurious to others. But his sister-in-law Lizzie and infamous brother-in-law Marty seemed to take greater issue, so much so that Marty began personally censoring even mild curses like “ass” and “bitch” by screaming “BEEP” or distractingly reaching over and attempting to cover his girls’ ears, tactics that were at once annoying and ineffectual. The G.U. felt that his own method of setting standards and just letting the kids deal was much more successful, a fact that was proven out when the movie ended. “That was funny,” Lizzie said to the girls. “But what did you think of all that cursing?” Brookie, Marty’s oldest daughter, shrugged. “We hear it all the time from Mommy. We hear it all the time from Daddy. We hear it all the time from movies. We just know not to say any of it.” Chalk up another one for the G.U.’s patented method of empowering kids with the tools to analyze and understand the world, instead of trying (impossibly, unsuccessfully) to insulate them from it. 
Here’s a new idea whose time has come: Sanctimonious Holiday Cards. The Gay Uncle recently received a “holiday greeting” from someone he knows in Berkeley, CA the other day. It was just like all the other cards he receives in the mail every year–containing blank-faced photos of his friends standing in some highlight-of-the-year location/vacation, smiling falsely, with their brood–save two minor points: 
The Gay Uncle was recently complaining to a colleague about how the holidays run at his in-laws house. He has three nieces on his boyfriend’s side, and in years past, the Christmas morning present-opening routine has been marked not by cheer, warmth, and love, but rather by infighting (“I like the green skirt! Why did she get the green skirt?”), ingratitude (“Is that all the presents?”), interjection (“Waaaaaah!!!), and–immediately upon the cessation of wrapping-ripping–inciting inflamation (“I’m bored.) So Gunc told his co-worker that, this year, he’s boycotting all present giving. Instead, he said, he’s making extra donations to charity in his nieces’ honor (Habitat for Humanity, a Food Bank, Planned Parenthood). “It’s no Wii,” he said, “but I feel much better about it.”
While he was down in the Keys with his family last week, The Gay Uncle was invited to read aloud to his nieces’ 4/5th grade class. There are about 30 kids in this Montessori group, and it is run by a hardcore practitioner, so when he arrived, instead of the usual happy teacher chatter he usually aims for in these situations, he was instructed to sit in a hard chair and simply “observe the children”. He tried his best to be unobtrusive, though it went against every fiber of his being. This was especially difficult since a) all three of his nieces (Amber, Lucia, and Faye) are in the class; b) he’s spent his entire professional career talking to kids; and c) he’d been out drinking until the wee hours the night before and had consumed about nine glasses of water that morning in an attempt to fight off a hangover. 
The Gay Uncle recently received a report on his six year old “nephew” Max. Apparently, a girl in Max’s class was behaving strangely toward him: hiding his windbreaker, grabbing the ball away from him on the playground, offering to be his math partner and then saying “psych”. The girl’s older brother–who is also in their class–wondered what was going on, so he asked his sister point-blank after school one day: “Truth: Are you in love with Max?” The girl reddened, and nodded. “Yes.”