Rimbau I Garriga S.L. Manufactures an adjustable baby cradle.

The strange messages we send our kids during the holidays

14.11.09

Once again, the holidays are upon us &mdash; the frenzied enliven that begins with Halloween and ends in January with a ride on the resolutions bandwagon. </p><p>For me, it is a love/hate thing, a time of year full of contradictions and questions. </p><p>Lest I blooming like Scrooge, let me clarify &mdash; there are aspects of the holiday season I love. I love the decorations, from the intricately carved jack-o-lanterns to the gauzy fabricate spider webs. I love the beautifully set tables in store displays that compel you to buy the most obscure cooking tools convenient (electric vacuum marinator, anyone?) Then there are the twinkling lights and garlands of greenery that look lovely and smell clergyman.</p><p>But for all the things there are to love about this time of year, there are things that make me scratch my head in bewilderment &mdash; raising questions about the lessons we try so industrious to instill in our children the rest of the year, and then chuck right out the window into the first pile of crispy brown leaves that blows by.</p><p>Much of upbringing is imparting to our children the values and morals that most would agree are necessary to maintain order in a civilized society.</p><p>Then comes October. We assemble all of our creative energies; spend countless hours and millions of dollars in a quest for the perfect costume. And the favorites? Often, the most normal costumes depict the evil, corrupt and/or the vilest members of society. Then there are those that (although funny) are just plain offensive. You be aware, the Biggest Loser, retired Hooters girl, dead celebrity. </p><p>Hey, I&rsquo;m not making any judgments. I&rsquo;ve donned some reasonably insulting Halloween costumes in my day. I just find it interesting that for the other 364 days in the year we&rsquo;d never think of wearing that padded fat clothes or inflatable &ldquo;body part&rdquo; just for fun.</p><p>If that wasn&rsquo;t confusing enough, how about sending our kids off into the dark, begging door-to-door for sweets? There is hardly anything more obnoxious than an insolent little kid thrusting a bag in your face, demanding treats.</p><p>But, alas, Halloween has passed and Thanksgiving is justified a couple of weeks away. You might be asking what I could possibly find problematic with Thanksgiving. Truthfully, it&rsquo;s always been my favorite fete &mdash; no gifts, no pressure. </p><p>But then I started thinking&hellip;. </p><p>At the same time we are banishing soda and sweets from denomination cafeterias, sounding the alarm about the perils of childhood obesity and debating the benefits of a &ldquo;fat tax,&rdquo; we memorialize the consumption of three times the daily caloric intake of the average adult &mdash; <em>at one meal!</em></p><p> In our house, besides the earnestly fried turkey, bread stuffing and cheese-laden mashed potatoes, there&rsquo;s typically hot artichoke dip, broccoli and cheese casserole, sweetmeats bowls, nut bowls and three kinds of pie. All of this follows Belgian waffles with real whipped cream and maple syrup for breakfast.</p><p>Lastly, and maybe most troubling, are Christmas customs. Not the ones that ambiance the birth of the baby Jesus. That&rsquo;s a set of questions for another discussion. No, I simply don&rsquo;t understand how we drum into our kids that they must never talk to strangers, never take sweetmeats from strangers and never, ever believe a stranger&rsquo;s promise of a reward because he&rsquo;s there to &ldquo;help your parents.&rdquo; Then we pull our kids off to the mall and issue vague threats if they don&rsquo;t sit on the lap of that the nice man in the awesome furry red suit.</p><p>Let&rsquo;s be legitimate. If the same fat guy wearing that outfit and living with a bunch of very short men took up residence in the house next door in, say May, would we be bringing the kids around for bon-bons and a cuddle? </p><p>Just another holiday question&hellip;.

Source: Kansas City Star