My first-grade daughter came home from school the other day and mentioned her teacher told the class about TV Turnoff Week. She said it hesitatingly, as if it might really be true. I can imagine the stunned reactions in that class and the kids thinking they would rather have been told about a giant meteor heading straight for their house that would destroy everything, including their Webkinz.
I assured my daughter that, yes, there is such a thing as TV Turnoff Week. And, no, we don’t have to turn off the TV this week for two reasons: 1) NHL playoffs. 2) Overall peace and harmony in the Kid You Not household.
TV Turnoff Week is a valid effort to get kids to watch less TV. But in reality, Not Breathing Week would have a better chance at success. Therefore, Kid You Not proposes a compromise: Turnoff Stupid TV Week.
The prime offenders are the shows that exist solely to sell merchandise: "Power Rangers," "Ninja Turtles" and "Pokemon." I’m not a fan of the loud smart-alecky stuff like "Jimmy Neutron" and "Fairly Oddparents." Any violent stuff like Hentai is off-limits.
Let your kid make a few choices, say one morning show and one after-school show. We like "Higglytown Heroes" in the morning and "Spongebob" in the afternoon. Here’s a tip: if you’ve got a grade-schooler, rent a PBS show from the early ‘00s called "Redwall." It’s set in the Middle Ages. It’s like "24" for kids.

I’m raking the front yard and using the leaf blower over the weekend. My 7-year-old and 3-year-old daughters are playing in the yard with a neighbor’s kid, a 5-year-old boy.
My older daughter runs over and picks up the leaf blower.
"Hey Adam, do you want me to blow you?"
God, daddy really needs a drink. Like right now.

Welcome to the Alec Baldwin School of Parenting. Are you concerned today’s kids are too coddled? Too entitiled to their Abercrombie and Razrs? The Alec Baldwin School of Parenting will teach you how to keep your kids cowering in the corner, afraid of your very footsteps. They might hope for Mr. Rogers, you’ll give them Mr. T!
The Alec Baldwin School of Parenting knows your instinct is to be a "helicopter" parent, always hovering around your precious darling. Well, if you want your kids to grow up protected by a hardened shell of resentment and anger, you need to be an Apache gunship. We’ll show you how!
Let’s start with some improvised dialogue you can use the next time you have a conversation with your child.
They say: "Daddy, I love you."
You say: "You have made an ass out of me for the last time."
They say: "Daddy, do you like my new dress?"
You say: "I’m a good father, and you’re a pig. I don’t give a %&*$."
They say: "Daddy, the teachers are always picking on me. What should I do?"
You say: "You answer or you get hit with a brick."
They say: "Daddy, mom says you’re too strict."
You say: "You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you thoughtless pain in the ass?"
They say: "I can’t wait for my birthday!"
You say: "I don’t care that you’re twelve or eleven or whatever."
With this these discussion tips, you can be the assertive person your child needs. Don’t be a best friend, be a parent!
Listen to these endorsements of The Alec Baldwin School of Parenting:
"The best thing since wire hangers!" — Joan Crawford
"Forget corporal punishment. He’s the three star general!" — John Rosemond
The first step is making the call: 1 (800) BAL-DWIN. Let’s let Alec have the last word: "Are you interested? I know you are ‘cause it’s pick up the phone or get your ass straightened out."

My 7-year-old daughter has locked herself in her bedroom and won’t come out until she gets a Webkinz (Webkin?).
You think I’m kidding? Actually, I am. But I can see this happening very soon. This is the kind of power the Webkin wields. I am both fascinated and terrified of this strange new world.
It all started prior to her recent birthday, when my wife and I floated some suggestions for birthday presents.
"How about a nice educational board game, honey?"
"No. Webkinzs. Koala and Panda."
"What the heck are you talking about?"
She gladly educated her clueless parents. Webkinz are cute furry animals you can hold, but they also "live" in an online world where you care for them. I have no idea where she learned this. I wasn’t even sure my daughter knew what a computer was, never mind how to live in an online world.
Of course, Webkinz are hard to find. They’re sold at specialty toy stores and are rarely in stock. Prices are skyrocketing on eBay. I used to be all pleased with myself that my kids were not into fad toys or video games and I didn’t have to chase down the last remaining Wii or Elmo. The Webkinz makers are laughing themselves silly at parents like me.
Webkinz are really evil emissaries from a nameless multi-national conglomerate bent on stealing your money. Here’s how it works: Your daughter enters the ID number found on her Webkinz animal on the Webkinz Web site. That immediately activates an artificial intelligence chip inside the animal and your child begins to receive mind control messages every time she logs on.

Soon, your ATM passwords, account numbers, mother’s maiden name, which drawer the racy vacation videotape is hidden in, etc.. are speeding their way to the aforementioned multi-national conglomerate.
I suppose it could be worse. She could have wanted at Bratz doll.

Day 1
"Can I have my chocolate bunny?"
"No"
"Why not?"
"It’s 2 a.m."
Day 2
"Can I have my chocolate bunny?"
"No"
"Why not?"
"You’re in the tub"
Day 3
"Can I have my chocolate bunny?"
"No"
"Why not?"
"Your mother ate it."

When I was a kid, there was a great commercial for Hawaiian Punch. The cartoon character would rear back with his fist and yell "How about a nice Hawaiian Punch!" and then smack someone.
If you listen to the food police hand-wringers, that commercial’s influence should have turned me into an obese, diabetic serial killer. I am glad to report that I am none of those things.
A recent study by the national Institute of Medicine determined companies were spending $10 billion a year on enticing kids to eat junk food, primarily through TV ads on kids’ shows. Just another obvious study designed to grab headlines? I thought so, until I spent an afternoon watching Spongebob Squarepants with my 7-year-old daughter.

She was home from school sick with a stomach bug (let’s just say chunks were blown. Oh my God, were chunks ever blown). Every commercial that wasn’t about some stupid toy was about the most ridiculous cereals ever devised. Apparently there’s a cereal that’s made up of mini Eggo waffles with maple syrup flavoring. As if Cap’t Crunch wasn’t sugary enough, they made a chocolate version. A stalwart like Rice Krispies is now "choco-vanilla".
All the while, my daughter, who could barely muster the energy to blink, is jumping up as each commercial comes on and telling "I want that!" That’s when I realized the medium is truly the message. She’s never cared for sugary cereals, but the way the commercial presents the product gets kids hooked.
After a while, I just turned off the TV and we played board games and did some drawing. So, parents, don’t give in to the advertisers and control what you allow into the house.
That way, you don’t have to share the Froot Loops.