The Perfect Baby Handbook » Marketing

The perfect parent’s iPhone apps

dale — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 05:07:57 +0000

YAY: "Dad has an iPhone, is finally cool!"

Once, in an era known as pre-2007, you could raise children without an iPhone. This is no longer possible, implies Time magazine, with this list of hot iPhone apps for “new moms.”

The “BabyCam” app, which tops the list, solves a timeless problem:

Getting your baby to smile for the camera long enough to take a perfect picture can be a challenge. Using BabyCam’s sound button to play one of the app’s fifteen prerecorded noises—bells, drums, doorbells and songs including “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” helps.

For parents who prefer to snap an imperfect picture, there is also the “BabyPissOff” app. Use its sound buttons to play an arrangement of “Mary Had a Little Unsmiling Lamb” that’s heavy on blaring trumpets, shrill oboes, hisses, rattles, yelps, groans, keening, and a woman’s voice repeating, “Not in service. Please try your call again.”

The hottest baby invention of 1945: The lab-rat crib!

dale — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 03:54:33 +0000

Cozy-looking, isn’t it? Conceived by Harvard behavioral psychologist, BF Skinner, for his second child, Deborah, this “crib” was born of the best intentions. Observing the heavy toll his wife’s parenting regimen took on her, Skinner set out to simplify it. Though not by pitching in himself…

HOME, SICK, HOME: Climate controlled!

He created this baby-sized room, known as the “Baby Tender,” in which the new infant could live—more or less continuously. Sound-proofed, self-cleaning, and climate-controlled (“78 degrees, with a relative humidity of 50 percent”), it reduced the family’s laundry load: “Why not dispense with clothing altogether,” Skinner posited, “except for the diaper and warm the space in which the baby lives?”

Too warm? Cool it down before little Deborah fusses or cries, vastly reducing Mrs. Skinner’s need to soothe her. (Scroll down for a touching image of mother, child, and box.)

The crisply designed “apparatus” got a bad rap right from the start. When Skinner enthusiastically but nerdily outlined its merits for the Ladies Home Journal in 1945, the article, titled “Baby in a Box,” raised eyebrows. Since BF’s other big invention was a case for testing animals (and rewarding them with food-pellets), people assumed the worst.

Rumors flourished that baby Deborah, “locked” in her box, failed to appreciate its comforts. According to the stories, she promptly became psychotic, growing up to sue her father and commit suicide.

Not so, declared a distinctly undead Deborah decades later, in a spirited defense of her father’s methods published in the (U.K.) Guardian.

Still, it’s easy to see how folks got the wrong idea. When Skinner published his Journal piece, Deborah had been in the “Baby Tender” box for 11 months, and, as he noted, not everyone sensed its brilliance:

A few critics have objected that they would not like to live in such a compartment—they feel that it would stifle them or give them claustrophobia. The baby obviously does not share in this opinion. The compartment is well-ventilated and more spacious than a Pullman berth, considering the size of the occupant.

Another early objection was that the baby would be socially starved and robbed of the affection and mother love, which she needs. This has simply not been true. The compartment does not ostracize the baby. The large window is no more of a social barrier than the bars of a crib.

Despite its roominess and obvious potential to increase his daughter’s social circle, the box, he admitted, was hardly a long-term solution:

How long do we intend to keep the baby in the compartment?….almost certainly until she is two years old, or perhaps three.

Even then, once Deborah had achieved the “wider range and variety of behavior” that comes from living without clothing—”our baby acquitted an amusing, almost apelike skill in the use of her feet”—the plan was to let her wander away from the prototype occasionally and really see the world:

After the first year, she will spend a fair part of each day in a playpen…

Or even “outdoors.” Rechristened the Aircrib when it was commercially produced in 1957, Skinner’s box mysteriously failed to catch on.

SKINNER'S CRIB IN ACTION: Note slide-out tray, pivoting display-case window, and little Deborah's evident bliss.

(Via DaddyTypes, via BoingBoing)

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Children at risk from Jon Gosselin’s “clothing designs”!

dale — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 03:55:13 +0000

WORST & CO: The sub-chic Jon & Hailey

Just when you thought Jon Gosselin, of “Jon & Kate Plus 8″ fame, couldn’t get any more loathsome, People magazine reported that he’d signed a new deal to design kids’ clothing for the Ed Hardy label with help from his new girlfriend. This seemed unfathomable and was later refuted by the rigorous journalists at Entertainment Tonight:

A rep for the clothing designer denies previous reports that the two were designing a new line together, telling ET, “There is no children’s clothing line in the works with Jon and Christian [Audiger, who designs for Ed Hardy]. It is untrue.”

With this respite, the world made sense again. I mean, seriously, have you clocked the way Jon dresses? Is there anyone less qualified to conceive youthful, innocent style except perhaps Jeremy Piven (“Entourage”) or Hulk Hogan (“Brain-Addled Wrestler”)? Has Jon absorbed some important life-lesson by leaving his spouse for Hailey Glassman, 22, the daughter of his wife’s plastic surgeon that might inform his sense of color and proportion? Do louts know how to sketch?

But damn: Turns out the People story might be true. And, if its original reporting stands, it gets worse. Much worse: The poor Gosselin sextuplets will be drafted to wear Jon’s fashions in ads. And his girlfriend is to uncreatively collaborate:

Glassman will also have a hand in creating the kid-friendly fashions. “She’ll have a lot of input with Christian,” Gosselin told PEOPLE of Hailey’s involvement.

Old Hailey can’t even choose sunglasses that flatter her strangely pointy face (though, in her defense, apparently she hasn’t let her plastic-surgeon dad give her an artificially squared-off face.)

Incidentally, People’s report on this development is hilariously even-handed, as if its reporter felt the need to hedge her bets in case women still find Jon adorable. Is that even possible?

Sasha Baron Cohen: Hey, sorry, your manipulatively marketed movie bombed

dale — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 04:00:22 +0000

I was talking to a California teacher the other day about the way her kids casually call each other “gay,” as the universal synonym for “uncool.” As she put it, they sincerely have no clue.

ASS: Cohen fails to fool enough bigots.

Understandably, I didn’t have a lot of faith in the American public’s ability to appreciate the satire that supposedly excuses Sasha Baron Cohen’s Bruno. Its (relentless) marketers clearly hoped that their “expose” of homophobia might conveniently be mistaken for “look how funny fags are” flick a la Adam Sandler’s I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry.

The joke is on Bruno’s promotional team, and Cohen himself. The movie made “only” 30 million this weekend, “shockingly low” according to the Los Angeles Times, which noted that its earnings collapsed from Friday to Saturday; all signs point, limply, to terrible word-of-mouth, possibly fueled by Twitter.

A couple theories. 1) It’s a lousy movie, whatever the majority of critics say; 2) For all the producers’ attempts to blur the satire factor for the bigot market, homophobes didn’t want to be seen at a “gay” movie.

Maybe the folks at Universal should have asked their kids.

Why insanely costly private schools could (but don’t) charge even more

dale — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 03:47:46 +0000

FUNNY HA-HA: Fieldstone grads

In the middle of the most recessive recession in decades, you’d think attendance at private schools might dip a bit. Nope, reports the Economist in a semi-horrifying story that makes you want to drown someone. In fact, even more parents are scrambling for the right to pay surreal, bankruptcy-inducing amounts:

Compared with last year, applications are up 14%,” says Mark Stanek, the principal of Ethical Culture Fieldston, a private school in New York. All through the application season he and his board of governors had been on tenterhooks, waiting to see if financial turmoil would cut the number of parents prepared to pay $32,000-34,000 a year to educate a child…

How unnerving for the board of governors! Those tenterhooks can really hurt. Overall, the Economist finds “little sign of a meltdown in private schooling” in America, while finding a nice smattering of signs that such schools will raise fees by 2-to-4 percent this fall. Two theories: 1) Parents fear the recession will further shit-ify public schools; 2) They assume that application rates at the snoot-schools (which are really selling college-placement guarantees) will be down, increasing their kid’s chances.

After amassing proof that these institutions could get away with charging way more (in much the same way that Rosemary’s Baby’s heroine amasses evidence that her husband’s in league with Satan), the report offers a nice reality check:

So why aren’t fees even higher? [The likely explanation] is that schools’ quality would decline if they simply sold places to the highest bidders. Part of what they offer is the chance to learn with clever classmates, and if fees were too high the pool of brainy potential pupils would become too shallow.

Whew! That was close.

Michael Jackson doll—as seen in hands of his bereaved son!

dale — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 04:00:48 +0000

BENDABLE LIMBS: Blanket and doll

Trust it to a website called “Droolicious—Modern Design for Modern Parents” to find a product to drool over in the middle of Michael Jackson’s memorial.

The site’s post titled “What Was Blanket Holding?” dispenses with eulogistic ponderings and zeros in on the revelation that Jackson’s youngest son, Blanket, was gripping a “1995 Official Triumph International Michael Jackson doll” that “you can pick up” for between $260 to $1500, depending on whether you’d like it to sing.

No one at Droolicious seems to find it at all curious, notable, or (I dunno) heart-rending that this child is holding a plastic, miniature version of his plastic, full-sized dead father—something that’s never really been seen before. John F. Kennedy, Jr., for instance, didn’t have a JFK doll to help him mourn.

It’s as if Barbie’s daughter is attending Barbie’s Dream Funeral. A version of which, I just found out, was recorded for this 2007 YouTube video. Given Barbie’s parallels with MJ—both emaciated pop icons, born in the late 50s, given to makeovers and blank expressions—this clip disturbed me. I actually gasped at 00:28.

Goodbye, Barbie/Michael.

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Why Evian’s roller-skating babies terrify me

dale — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 03:47:04 +0000

Already a YouTube phenomenon, this new Evian commercial suggests that mineral water is so rejuvenating, it will transform you into a vaguely thuggish, roller-skating infant.

Evian clearly thinks this ad sets new standards of cuteness. These babies redefine precocity and outshine squirrels for agility as they one-up each other with funky roller moves—a reference to the late-70s jam skating scene in New York’s Central Park, set to the 1979 hit, “Rapper’s Delight.”

And it is freaky-cute, up to a point. Namely 00:26, when several of the babies leap in the air and cling to a wire fence like rabid dingoes who’ve watched West Side Story (or Thriller or The Lost Boys) a few too many times. And then it dawns on you: These babies have no parents. Why?! Have they perhaps killed their parents?

OVERSIGHT Responsible parenting in action

Who will stop these bundles of roller-skating joy if they turn rogue and swarm out of the park? If they begin leaping on cars and roller-skating their way up the Empire State Building? Will the U.S. Air Force be able to neutralize them in time? (Compare this illustration, right, from page 66 of my book, The Perfect Baby Handbook—although this infant is also dangerously mobile, at least his flustered dad is attempting to supervise him.)

On another level, the Evian commercial disturbs me because it suggests just how ruthlessly the new generation of aggressively educated, genius-ified babies may render the rest of us obsolete. Of course, it may not be too late.

A “rocking sheep” that is priced, in all seriousness, at $575

dale — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 04:01:04 +0000

Ordinary children have to make do with a rocking horse. Special children, whose parents like to shop online while drunk, get to own this $575 “Electric Pink Rocking Sheep” by Danish Crafts. Upholstered in lambskin, this creature is even more amazing than it first appears. Consider the web site’s description:

Most nursery sheep lull you to sleep; this one is strictly built for action. If you’re too old or sedate to hop on for a ride, it doubles as a cool TV rack or footstool.

These are challenging concepts. Let’s take them one-by-one:

1. Unlike most nursery sheep, this one is “strictly built for action.” Personally, I’m not seeing the rigor that “strictly” implies, but perhaps the prototypes were 400 percent fluffier; then someone at Danish Crafts said: “Hold on, we are being indulgent and unfocused! I personally feel that this rocking sheep, in its current incarnation, is built less “for action” and more for gratuitous fluffiness!” And someone else said, “By god, you’re right. You don’t see NASA sending inefficiently furry, pink rocket-ships into space, do you?” And then the boss barked: “Reduce fluffiness by 75 percent immediately!”

2. It is possible to be too old or sedate to ride the “Electric Pink Rocking Sheep.” I would generally agree. On the other hand: Sir Elton John?

3. It doubles as a footstool: A dead body also doubles as a footstool with the added advantages that it isn’t weirdly unsteady, super-silly, and swelteringly hot in July. In defense of the Rocking Sheep, it’s less likely to arouse suspicions.

4. The product can also double as a “cool TV rack”: Absolutely. Certainly—if everything your family owns apart from this Danish thing and a tiny TV has been destroyed by fire and you really want to watch “Grey’s Anatomy” on top of a pink sheep that wobbles.

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The dark side of being “as cute as a button”

dale — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 03:50:52 +0000

Yesterday’s creepy encounter with TheCuteKid.com gave me the impression that Americans value Cuteness in their young above, well, everything—and that all kids naturally strive for it, too.

Then I saw this (circa 2007) local-news clip of Autumn Poovey, an Ohio high-school cheerleader who, as her puzzled mother says, “didn’t want to be cute anymore.” Autumn’s problem: chubby cheeks, often considered a benchmark of adorability. “With her pom-poms,” the sympathetic reporter notes, “Autumn also carried years of pain.”

Though no adolescent wants to get teased, “Poofy Poovey” does not seem like the most devastating slur. Still when your child comes to you pleading: “Mom, I just want my cheeks taken out. I want my cheeks gone!”—what can you do other than direct her to terrifying make-up contouring diagrams?

You could, I suppose, research the procedure—buccal fat pad extraction—and make sure your kid understands that cheek de-chubbifying, while perhaps flattering in the short term, can leave her looking gaunt and less than cheerful when her face inevitably thins out in her 20s.

Let’s hope Autumn is happy “looking older.” As for Dr. Jean Loftis, the expert who shows up at 1:34 in this clip and so routinely helps immature people alter their bodies (“Round Christmas time, I feel like Santa Claus”), you’ll be interested to know that she’s the author of The Smart Woman’s Guide to Plastic Surgery. If you’re interested, that is, in really misleadingly titled books.

The vast, bizarro world of “The Cute Kid” contest

dale — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 04:00:10 +0000

PANIC: "Mom, am I cute enough?"

Candid admission: Earlier tonight, I saw the horror movie Drag Me To Hell (a smartly cheesy film about a young mortgage-loan manager cursed by a bug-eyed gypsy). I’m a little jumpy, unhinged. But even if I’d been calmer when I stumbled on The 2009 Cute Kid of the Year website, I suspect it would have unnerved me.

In its own pastel way, this photo contest is freaking surreal.

It’s like discovering a vast underworld, entirely populated by parents who are compelled to confirm that their kids are “cute.” Marketably cute. Olive-Garden-commercial cute. And are gullible enough to pay $19.95 just to submit their child’s photo. (“Never use makeup on the child, natural is always better,” urges a veteran entrant.) It’s unclear whether the parents are operating under a gypsy curse.

TheCuteKid.com appears to be largely a scam, albeit one with credible “sponsors” such as Gerber and Parents Magazine. The site claims that “not only [modeling] agents, but casting directors” will scrutinize the photos and hints heavily that a trillion-dollar GapKids contract is a distinct possibility.

And don’t forget the Grand Prize—”a cash investment worth close to $25,000 towards college tuition*”—note the asterisk after the word “tuition.” The expected footnote, clarifying this diabolically vague phrase, is nowhere to be found.

I’m now officially obsessed with TheCuteKid.com, and its seventeen sub-categories (baby, toddler, “big kid,” pre-teen, multiples, etc.) and it endless array of large-eyed pixies and smoldering twins. It’s all so very fishy.