Surprised and amused by Sunday's column by David Brooks, the NY Times' token conservative. Brooks cannonballed into the whole "hipster parent" controversy and no doubt caused a big splash. I haven't checked the usual message boards yet, but I'm sure Brooks is being flayed for calling out all those annoying urbanistas with $800 McClaren strollers.
Here's his stance: "What I object to is people who make their children ludicrous." Good point. Brooks is actually a little late to the fight. Kid You Not first spotted this trend a few years ago with the "baby disco" fad, where hipsters who refused to give up the club life simply staged nightclub parties for toddlers, complete with skimpy kids' clothes and racy R&B. Ramones and Sex Pistols onesies are another symptom of the disease.
Brooks rips babble.com, which isn't so bad. The real bible for the hipster parent is Cookie magazine, where kids are nothing more than a fashion accessory for wealthy Tribeca moms.
Hopefully, Brooks' column will be the nail in the coffin of this trend. I hope he writes about Bratz dolls next.

Let’s say you’re a dad with a 9-year-old daughter who’s a good reader. You buy a copy of this new book "The Higher Power of Lucky" because it just won the Newbery Award. The book is for ages 9-12, but the Newbery is given to the top young adult novel of the year, so you figure you’re on safe ground.
She opens the book and reads this:
"Sammy told of the day when he had drunk half a gallon of rum listening to Johnny Cash all morning in his parked ‘62 Cadillac, then fallen out of the car when he saw a rattlesnake on the passenger seat biting his dog, Roy, on the scrotum... The question of Short Sammy’s dog’s scrotum settled into one certain brain crevice as she picked her way among the weedy bushes of the dry wash. Even though Lucky could ask Short Sammy almost anything and he wouldn’t mind, she could never ask about the story of Roy, since she had overheard it. If she asked about Roy, then he would know that she’d been eavesdropping at the anonymous twelve-step meetings...Scrotum sounded to Lucky like something green that comes up when you have the flu and cough too much. It sounded medical and secret, but also important, and Lucky was glad she was a girl and would never have such an aspect as a scrotum to her own body. Deep inside she thought she would be interested in seeing an actual scrotum. But at the same time — and this is where Lucky’s brain was very complicated — she definitely did not want to see one."
Oh, no.
You’ve been had. Scammed. You thought you we’re getting a young adult novel. What you got was a 58-year-old woman’s half-assed attempt to write like Harper Lee and Flannery O’Connor. That Newbery committee must have been so impressed with Susan Patron’s literary pretentions that they forgot 9-12-year-old children need "Charlotte’s Web," not "Wise Blood."
Now that Patron’s "The Higher Power of Lucky" is not being stocked by some schools, people are screaming about censorship and book banning. Sorry, but the issue is parental control.

Parents should decide when their daughter learns what a scrotum is, and many rightly don’t want their 9-year-old girl to ask that question just yet. So perhaps it’s best to not have this book on her school’s library shelf.
For many progressive thinkers, on Newbery committees and elsewhere, parents’ roles in their children’s lives should be diminished. Why should you be notified if your 15-year-old daughter is getting an abortion? It’s not your business, you’re just the parent.
I don’t have a personal quarrel with this book. My 6-year-old daughter has just started reading chapter books. She likes these Junie B. Jones books, which are slightly edgy, but OK with me. I just wonder why so many young adult novel writers feel compelled to write about such heavy topics.

That’s why Harry Potter and Lemony Snicket books are so popular. A 10-year-old reads these books and says "Yay! A book about adventure and fantasy! I was getting tired of all the books about suicide, bullying, burgeoning sexuality, divorce and dog scrotums."

When the local newscasters start shrieking like middle school girls at a Color Me Badd concert (What? They’re not popular anymore? Why not? Yeah, I guess 1991 was a long time ago) you know something big is about to happen.
Local TV news stations have been starved of their most prized story for too long: a snow storm. It doesn’t matter this will amount to about three inches of wet flakes. I swear the guy I saw this morning on NBC-30 was about to wet his pants he was so excited.
Well, I’m excited too. My girls, a 6-year-old and a 2-year-old, are just like those newscasters, except more mature. They absolutely love snow. They’ve been moping around for weeks, wondering when they could go sledding, make a snowman and shovel the driveway and front steps (a guy can dream).
This is shaping up to be two little girls’ dream day: no school, snow angels and a trail of Hersey kisses outside their bedrooms leading to a Valentine’s Day surprise.

After putting up with a screeching Christina make Soul Brother No. 1 turn over in his casket and the Red Hot Chili Peppers turn their backs on everything that once made them a great band, it was nice to see the Grammys recognize one of my favorite musicians.
Dan Zanes, leader of the great Boston band The Del Fuegos way back when, has been putting out fantastic children’s records for years. My kids are huge fans and he’s a big celebrity in our house. His 2006 record, Catch That Train, won the children’s recording Grammy. It’s nice to know that there’s a place in the world for fun, rocking, wholesome kids’ music.
Here’s what Dan said after winning: "I just hope that when we got back to our homes that we will sing some songs together. The more songs we sing together the better chance we have for a peaceful America, and an America where everyone feels accepted."

So Newsweek magazine tries to scare parents this week with a lurid cover story about the "Girls Gone Wild Effect." The premise is young girls are becoming fame-obsessed little sexpots because they’re constantly exposed to BritneyParisLindsay.
I couldn’t get past the lead of the story before spitting my Trader Joe’s Bay Blend all over the kitchen table. Actually, the editor’s note was the first tip off that something about this story was fishy.
Here’s editor Jon Meacham: "I suspect some readers will take a look at this week’s cover and think we have...gone soft. A quick, cynical interpretation might be: Newsweek wanted to sell a lot of magazines, so we are playing the celebrity card..." You know when pro athletes say "it’s not about the money," and of course it’s about the money? Same deal here.
Anywho, writer Kathleen Deveny starts off describing how her 6-year-old daughter Jing Jing (that’s daughter, not panda) loves Lindsay Lohan. "Loves, loves, loves her." She describes how first-grader Jing Jing has seen "The Parent Trap," "Herbie Fully Loaded" and "Freaky Friday." Then she gets all worked up wondering "are we raising a generation of "prosti-tots"? "Allow us to confirm what every parent knows: kids, born in the new-media petri dish, are well aware of celebrity antics," she writes.
Well, Kathleen, did your first-grader walk down to Blockbuster and rent PG-rated "Freaky Friday" all by herself? Of course not, you let her watch the movie. There is no reason in the world a 6-year-old girl needs to be aware of Lindsay Lohan or any other celebu-tard. It’s not hard for an engaged, cautious parent to filter out popular media junk when kids are this young. You control what shows they watch. You control who and what has an influence in their lives.
My 6-year-old daughter’s idea of a celebrity is Mulan. I passed up taking her to see "Happy Feet" because it’s rated PG. That may be irrational, but I figure if you adopt standards early, it might be easier when they reach middle school.
Also, what kind of parent lets her kid watch the Lindsay Lohan "Parent Trap?" I’m pretty sure Hayley Mills never partied without underwear.