Dimples McGee, We Hardly Knew Ye

Tantrum_1  It’s currently 1:35 a.m. and I’m at work, finishing up sundry unimportant tasks whilst catching a TiVo’d episode of "Everwood." As per usual, I’ve spent the last eight and a half hours watching TV, editing TV surveys, or whining about TV. One of the shows I had to watch was Supernanny, in which the eponymous saviour of dysfunctional families Jo Frost rescues a beleaguered couple from their horrible tyrant spawn. Tonight’s episode featured four-year-old twins named Alaia and Ashlyn, who were as cute and funny as they were horrible. Alaia had a "kicking-biting-screaming" affliction and Ashlyn threw a temper tantrum every time she had to go to bed. Between the two of them I doubt they ever slept or ate. Even to an untrained professional TV watcher like myself, I could see from the get-go that the problem with this family was that the parents didn’t pay any attention to the kids, and by the end of the episode all seemed better in the Blonde House of Shame, but it still got me thinking. Specifically, Alaia’s air-running tempertantrum en route to the "Naughty Corner" got me thinking. About a zillion-dollar "reality" TV show idea called Please Euthanize My Kids. The premise follows as such: A parent or parents have/has exactly three days to pacify their demon spawn by any and all means necessary. If by the end of day three the children fail the Placid Test (the Placid Test goes as follows: "Can I hear that kid?"), then I, Rebecca S., get to chuck them out the window. I await my millions of dollars.

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