I’m raising a cynic

There are ramifications for encouraging one’s child to pay attention to shit.  For encouraging an awareness of female behaviour and how women are perceived by the media and the world.  At 12 years of age, Rissa has become a dyed-in-the-wool speech pattern cynic.

Rissa loves cake decorating shows.  She loves watching people design cakes.  She loves the engineering of them.  She LOVES when they create flowers out of icing that look like real flowers.  When we go to the Bulk Barn, instead of candy, she asks for fondant, you know, so she can sculpt with it at home.  Hoping to find her something other than Cake Boss (shudder), I tried DC Cupcakes.  It looked promising – two sisters in DC who start their very own cupcake business.  Possible female role models in the making.  We started watching.  Rissa nearly went apoplectic.

“Mummy!!  These women sound like idiots!” (She changes her tone to Valley Girl speak) “They speak in, like, questions?  Where they, like, SAY things? And they use like as a comma or just as a, like, pause, be – like – cause they don’t have brains?  ARGH!!!!” 

(Rissa at 12, is now realizing that how women are perceived in the world may be directly proportionate to how they present themselves.  My plan to indoctrinate my daughter has totally worked!  YAY me!!)

Rissa was particularly upset when the women on the show thought they might be arrested for making a cupcake slot machine, when in actuality they were almost arrested because the route they chose to drive had their truck driving near the White House thereby they were nearly flagged as terrorists and because they were riding in the back of the truck without seatbelts.  You’d figure that living in DC, these gals would know that trucks are pretty much not allowed anywhere the White House.

While we were watching DC Cupcakes, Rissa also realized that reality tv shows have pretty much NO content.  They repeat the same clips over and over, so in 22 minutes of a 30 minute slot, maybe there are really only 17 of actual show.

“They just keep repeating everything!  I KNOW this already!  I KNOW that this one customer is trying to surprise her husband for his 40th birthday at a fancy-schmancy hotel.  I KNOW that they are going to try to make a cupcake slot machine, and I KNOW that the one girl’s husband is going to be the one trying to make the cupcake slot machine work.  Why do they KEEP telling me this????  I AM WATCHING THE SHOW RIGHT NOW!!!!“

At this point she collapses on the floor in a heap – a move she has perfected, in spite of her giraffe-like legs.  Then she says “WAILEY!  WAILEY!  WAAAAIIIIILLLLLEEEEEY!!!!!” (She’s a big fan of Terry Pratchet’s Wee Free Men – which if you haven’t read – you should.  Google it.  There’s a character called “not-as-big-as-medium-sized-Jock-but-bigger-than-wee-Jock-Jock”)

First book in three.  One of the best YA series ever!!!

“So I take it, we don’t need to save any more of these shows?” I ask, rhetorically.

She looks up from the floor in utter disbelief.  “NO!!!!  We never need to see another one of these.  EVER.  EVER.”  She bangs her head on the ground.  “EVER!!!!“

What’s scary?  This show made Cake Boss look almost tolerable.