Brett Berk

In addition to his screed below, for the sake of an upcoming essay, G.U. wants to know: what is the very most mind-numbingly dumbest recent baby/parenting product you’ve seen? Send links along with your descriptions where possible.

The Gay Uncle received a challenging review from a friend the other day. “I like the book, and the stories are funny,” this mom of a six month-old stated, “but I’m not so sure about the way you’re always telling people to be the grown up, and be in control of situations with their kids. It doesn’t seem fair. What kind of dynamic is that setting up in our family, where the adults are always in charge?”

G.U. has heard this protest before, and while he understands the cultural drive toward instilling democracy (echoes of nation-building?) his answer is relatively simple: You are creating a family in which your child feels safe, secure, and certain that you know more than they do. The reason behind this is simple: YOUR CHILD IS NOT YOUR EQUAL. If you honestly believe that it somehow has the skills or ability to debate with you about what makes up a nutritious meal, when an appropriate bedtime should be, or whether or not your should move to Colorado, perhaps you should do a brain-scan comparison. Your kid’s mind and capabilities are just developing. Yours are (or should be) somewhat more fully developed.

The relationship between parent and young child should not by any means be a tyrannical one. (GUG frowns on tyranny of any sort…except when play-acted in the bedroom between two consenting adults). Kids should feel as though they have agency, should be allowed to make relevant decisions, and above all should feel like life is fun and enjoyable. And you should certainly be aware of and listen to your child’s input, actions, and feelings. But they call it “parenting” for a reason. (Hint: YOU are the parent part of this equation.) Your child is your dependent. That means they depend on you to show them the way. This is why evolutionary biology waited for you to become an adult (or at least a post-adolescent) before allowing you to develop the possibility of making children. Own your role.

The Gay Uncle needs your help. He’s been asked to come up with a seasonally relevant essay topic for a national media outlet and while he has a proprietary take on the issues related to packing for summer vacations, prepping for autumn’s back-to-school, and the tedious dressing and undressing associated with winter wardrobes, he’s not so clear on what parents struggle with in the spring: Deciding whether or not to place partnerless mittens into storage? Mud? The irritatingly inexorable nature of the cycle of life? Help him out by submitting your spring essay ideas in the COMMENTS space below. Winner receives a shout-out if this thing actually happens.

The Gay Uncle is trapped in a car dealership this morning, waiting for his automobile to be serviced. You may not know this, but G.U. is something of a car freak–posters on his wall as an adolescent, daily reader of blogs like Jalopnik, owner of vintage vehicles, fully familiar with the function of all of those greasy mechanisms under an automobile’s hood. He even wrote a novel set in the auto industry, which is currently seeking a home in the New York publishing world. He’s from Detroit, so that’s part of the explanation. But so is his older–and straight!–brother, and he doesn’t care a whit about cars; he doesn’t even own one! (Younger brother has the bug: two SAABs, including a rare Sonnet III.) Anyway, the point is, there is a small child in the dealership waiting room with him right now, and the boy is whining, shredding brochures, putting his greasy mitts all over the glossy display models, and otherwise making a nuisance of himself. If G.U. were not so polite about not calling strangers out on their poor parenting, he would gesture meaningfully toward the sign hanging above the Service Manager’s desk.

NEW YORK STATE LAW REQUIRES ALL CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF SEVEN TO BE RESTRAINED IN A FEDERALLY APPROVED CHILD RESTRAINT SYSTEM.

Hey, it doesn’t say anything about the kid being in a moving vehicle!

People are asking the Gay Uncle all sorts of hard questions at his readings these days; it almost feels like a game show at times: Stump the G.U. But he’s capable of taking on all comers, including parents with willful children (pretend you’re the grown up, and let them know who’s boss–but don’t waver); those with kids who flip off the camera every time it comes out (state your dislike and move on without a huge commotion–digital photography has its advantages); and expectant parents who fear the arrival of their child will signal the end of their social life (it doesn’t have to, and it shouldn’t–for their sake and for the proper development of their kid–see Chapter 1 in the book!). But the best question thus far came from a guy last night in Chicago. He asked “How do you feel about Gay Parenting?” G.U.’s rejoinder: “I’m for it.” Second runner up was from a guy who claimed that his infant niece was afraid of him. “Stop wearing that George W. Bush mask when you go visit her,” Gunc advised. If you feel you have a ringer, come to one of his upcoming readings or just drop a line here in the comments… He’ll do his best.

Yesterday afternoon, the Gay Uncle received an intriguing query on his website. It came from a government employee (return address: .gov), which immediately made him nervous and suspicious. Hoping it might be an apology from George W. Bush for royally pooch-screwing the country for the past eight years, he read on. “Dear Gay Uncle,” it said. “Please come read to us at the Johnson Space Center Child Care Center.” Space Child? G.U. thought. Well, that sounds interesting. Visions of aliens and floating babies ran through his head, until he read on. “That’s the day care at NASA in Houston!” NASA? Gunc thought. Surprised, he had to pause, do a shot, and fan himself. But having a soft spot for astronauts (and the folks who help the astronauts do their astronauting)–and hoping to beat out that twink Lance Bass as the first gay in space–Gunc wrote back enthusiastically and is anxiously awaiting the center’s response. He will keep you posted in this space. Or you could just look up at the stars and watch for him there.

The Gay Uncle is trapped at LAX this morning, awaiting his flight to the midwest to continue his book tour. He’s quite Zen about air travel, so he’s not irritable or anything. Especially because being in an airport allows him to witness all sorts of interesting methods of dealing with kids. So far this morning he has witnessed: Children being yelled at by TSA agents to remove their “footwear” (A meaningless term to them.); Children being offered mocha-frappuccinos before boarding an international flight (Beg your pardon mommy, but that has enough caffeine in it to reanimate a dead horse; this might make it difficult for your child to remain in their seat during take off.); Children rollerskating through crowded gate corridors on their “Heelys” while their parents look on angry, powerless, and bewildered (You bought those dumb shoes, and let them wear them here; really, what did you expect?) Parents yelling at their children to “stop crying right now, or we’re not going to go to Disneyworld” (Are you really going to be able to enforce that threat?) G.U. wonders if he should wander around a bit and gather up some info for The Gay Uncle’s Guide to Family Trips.

Since G.U. is still in L.A. promoting his book, he thought he’d combine two relevant areas in todays posting: giving young children too much decision-making power, and plastic surgery. A mommy friend of his out here exemplified this combo in a story she told him at a party. Apparently, during a recent roughhousing session with her six year old, the boy accidentally ended up scratching the mother’s face. She wasn’t actually injured but since the woman is an actress, she was concerned about marring her most precious resource. “Can you see anything?” she asked the boy. “Did it leave a mark?” Her son shook his head. “No,” he said. “There’s nothing there but the usual lines on your forehead and around your mouth.” Horrified, the mother pulled back, and grabbed a mirror to examine herself (she always had one at hand). Her son looked over her shoulder and stared along with her. After a few moments of concerted posing, she turned to the boy. “Do you think mommy should have something done about these lines?” she asked. “Have them taken away or filled in?” The boy shrugged. “I’m used to your face the way it is.”

The Gay Uncle’s better half will be on the radio this weekend, narrating a full-hour radio documentary he produced for This American Life! G.U. 1 highly recommends that you listen.

The Ghost of Bobby Dunbar
In 1912 a four year-old boy named Bobby Dunbar went missing in a swamp in Louisiana. Eight months later, he was found in the hands of a wandering handyman in Mississippi. In 2004, his granddaughter discovered a secret beneath the legend of her grandfather’s kidnapping, a secret whose revelation would divide her own family, bring redemption to another, and become the answer to a third family’s century-old prayer.

For your local air-dates and times, check out “Find Your Local Station” on the This American Life main page (www.thisamericanlife.org). Or you can just listen to it here on-line.

In other Guncle Radio news, you can now listen to a 1/2 hour radio interview with G.U. 1 right here.

Though he’s kicked them around plenty in his book, the Gay Uncle is always pleased to see his friends Kate and Dylan, who have moved out to L.A. (where he is currently stationed as part of the national GUG book tour). This is not only because he ABSOLUTELY ADORES them and their kids Max and Athena, but because they’re always full of confessional parenting stories that he can then claim and make fun of. Last night was a perfect example.
During after-dinner drinks at the world’s greatest bar, Gunc was gushing about the joys of the outsider position of “Uncle”, and relating his delight in how open his former preschool students were with him in discussing the struggles and pressures they’re facing in their adolescence. In response, Kate was bemoaning the difficulty she often has as a mom in getting her five year old son to tell her anything about his day. As G.U. spells out in his book (Chapter 11: Drop and Ditch-Starting School) it can often be difficult for a child to answer open ended questions like “What did you do in school today?” An entire day is an enormous and amorphous amount of time to a young kid, and so the question lacks the concrete and specific grounding they need in order to access relevant information. (Akin to asking an adult, “So, what do people do in America?”) Plus, kids really enjoy–and deserve–having aspects of their life that are separate from their parents. But every so often, kids just get in what we in the ed biz call a “talky” mood, and they spontaneously volunteer information about their lives.
Apparently Max was in one of these the other afternoon at pick-up time, pulling on his mom’s graphic-t and slouchy suede purse, and wanting to explain the complexities of some interaction he’d had with his peers, and some kind of growth he’d undergone as a result. Of course, the roadway of parent/child communication is a two way street, and at that moment, Kate was busy doing some important social networking with some of the other mommies. “I turned to him, my son,” she confessed last night, “and told him, I don’t have time for this right now. Tell me later. He walked away with his head down. And of course, when I asked him about it later, in the car, he didn’t want to talk, or had forgotten, or was withholding.” She sighed. “I can’t believe, the thing I ask for the most, when it’s offered up, I reject it.” G.U. nodded sympathetically, and thought, Isn’t that just like life?