Stalking
around the display of her wares on TV, supermodel Heidi Klum offers parents the
nursery of HER dreams. She names her designs “Trulyscrumptious,” which
sounds like an eclaire or Napoleon pastry, and advertises their availability at
BabiesRUS. Why not call this exercise in arrogance by its true name—“Trulyobnoxious,”
created for RidiculousRUS?
What babies
need designer trappings in the room where they sleep, drool, and begin to aim
for light sockets with tiny fingers? And stalking down a runway, as Heidi's gait
demonstrates on camera, accomplishes no movements appropriate to Dad, Mom, or
Kiddie in the ideal nursery. Mom and Dad come best equipped for this task—and grandparents,
with mementos.
The tiny doll
which Grandma made for Mom belongs on a high dresser. Dad’s and Mom’s recorded
lullabies can out-perform Heidi any day or thundering night. The resident of that nursery
heard her parents’ voices long before s/he kicked or screamed. Hearing them
while parents confabulate together in another room reassures that child of
their constant presence and protection.
What they
need to protect that child from first of all is merciless commercialism. Swath
that child in keepsakes—a favorite comforter, embroidered with images of family
pets, or a cross-stitch masterpiece donated by Aunt Hilda, or Uncle Edward’s
old army blanket. If that child is lucky, s/he will never forget these members
of a particular and very specific human family.
What that
child does not need—EVER—is the assumption from Day One that no fate better than
becoming a smarmy stalking supermodel awaits in the future. Heidi’s dreams
belong in Heidi’s closet. Let her bring them out to impress somebody else--not a
child who dreams of Mommy and Daddy tiptoeing in barefoot to check if that
child is covered, and kissing that sweet brow Good Night.
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