Mum Z. is a fake advice columnist with a real British accent. She has a special way with both toddlers and sailors, and has been a wet nurse, mechanic, and alcoholic.

Inspired by an infomercial that claimed "Yes! Your Infant Can Read!" Mum Z. created the popular line of "Watch My Baby..." products, including the wildly successful: "Watch My Baby Use a Steam Cleaner," "Watch My Baby Use An Electric Yard Edger," "Watch My Baby Touch Up My Roots," and "Watch My Baby Steal Jewelry and Funnel Cakes for Me at The Mall."

 

 

Dear Mum Z.,

I'm terrified that my 7-year-old son is a budding sociopath. He tortures earthworms, ridicules the spectacled boy down the street, and responds to punishment by acting out. Please help!

Manson's Mommy?

Eau Claire, WI

 

Dear Manson,

Now, now. Let's get you a tissue and a cup of tea. What you describe is more annoying than troubling. I think what you've got is less a Scott Peterson-type psychopath and more a John Edwards-type bastard. Keep in mind: a boy who harms kittens is a sociopath, a boy who does the same to earthworms? A jerk. A boy who sprinkles rat poison in the school salad bar? A serial killer. A boy who dumps out his mac 'n' cheese with glee? A prick. I'm pleased to say, my dear, that all you have on your hands is a garden-variety asshole.

Chin up!

Z.

 

Dear Mum Z.,

Our dog has ringworm and I'm afraid the children have been exposed. I know you're not a medical doctor, but what should we do?

Itchy and Scratchy,

Thousand Oaks, CA

 

Dear Itch,

Medical schmedical. I've performed the Heimlich, CPR, two back-alley tubal ligations, and have been known to fashion a tourniquet from granny panties. But back to your original question. The good news: ringworm isn't a worm, it's a fungus. The bad news? You're disgusting.

Z.

 

Dear Mum Z.,

Now that school has started, I'm looking for some quick lunchbox ideas. Any suggestions?

Tired of PB&J,

Houston, TX

 

Dear Lazy,

Personally, I could live for weeks on a pack of Camels and pretzel sticks. But since the kids probably need protein, be sure to throw in a little beef jerky. And a lighter is thoughtful, too.

Smoke 'em if you've got 'em,

Mum

 

Dear Mum Z.,

Can you please tell me more about the benefits of cloth diapering?

Troubled and addled,

Quebec City, Quebec

 

Dear T&A,

Yes. I could tell you all about the benefits of cloth diapering, but why don't I first tell you about the benefits of painting a nursery using a handful of pine straw instead of a roller brush? Or maybe I'll discuss the benefits of drinking kale juice instead of Frangelico. Or eating freeze-dried tempeh instead of carpaccio. Tell you what. How about you forgo the morphine and bite on this old leather bridle while I remove your appendix with a corkscrew? Thatta girl. That's right. Go buy yourself some Luvs. And don't dawdle.

 

Dear Mum Z.,

I hope you can solve a debate my mother-in-law and I are having. It is her opinion that if a cocktail party is being held at one's house, the hosts' children should make one appearance, usually just prior to bed, when they are bathed and dressed in ironed pajamas, to perform something short and sweet for the guests. For example, a minuet on the piano or a recitation of state capitals. I, on the other hand, think the children should briefly serve appetizers before retreating upstairs with the sitter. Who's right?

Bring me a pig in a blanket,

Palm Beach, FL

 

Dear Pig,

Children are neither court jesters nor bartenders, but when they are dressed in velvet and asked to get down on their hands and knees, they do make charming footstools.

Now, go get me a gimlet.

Spit spot.

Z.

 

 

 Dear Mum Z.,

We're not sure, but we think our our 18-month-old son is what you'd call gifted. He already knows all of the Eastern European capitals, is a whiz at long division, and eagerly explains the process of photosynthesis to other kids at the park. Just yesterday, he beat me at chess and corrected his mother when she used the word "irregardless." Understandably, we're overcome with pride, but unsure of what steps to take next. Space camp? Early admission to Brown? Regis and Kelly? Help!

That's Our Boy!

Baltimore, MD

 

Dear That's,

I'm so sorry to hear of your predicament. It's one thing to wait 18 years for your son to turn into a smart-ass, but a mere 18 months? Great Scott. I send you my condolences.

Now. Let's discuss "gifted." Just because a child can build an artificial heart out of sippy cup valves or sing the "National Anthem" in Cantonese doesn't mean he or she is a prodigy. Does your son know how to talk his way out of a DUI? Can he execute an elaborate telemarketing scam? Is he cunning enough to juggle three playdates with three different girls in one evening? I mean, come on! What's more lucrative? A child who can recite "Casey at the Bat" or one with a mean beatbox? Do you need me to call up Lil' Bow Wow?

The cure for precociousness is first and foremost: Cheetos. As well as, video games, cap guns, and FD&C Red 40. The Teletubbies are also wonderfully mind-numbing. Better your son think the capital of Luxembourg is Tinky Winky and the square root of pi is Po, than to wind up in a body cast for telling kids at the park the difference between fusion and fission.

Remember: a clever child is like a facial mole. With the right guidance, yours can blossom into a beauty mark, but, left to its own devices, you'll have nothing but a hairy melanoma -- one that makes you and your wife look incredibly pea-brained.

Godspeed.

 

Dear Mum Z.,

Now that I have a newborn, I find it difficult to make time for bathing. Don't get me wrong, once I make the effort and get around to it, it's actually somewhat enjoyable -- that is, if I can stay awake for the duration. Problem is, I just don't have the desire anymore; the drive is gone. Why would I want to spend time lathering up when I could be getting some well-deserved sleep or drinking Bailey's straight from the bottle or watching Top Chef? My gynecologist says there's a prescription ointment for my condition; she even suggested I watch some videos of dirty people bathing to get me in the mood. I dunno. It just seems so contrived.

It's kind of funny because before little Walter came along, I couldn't get enough of personal hygiene. Bathing, exfoliating, eyebrow plucking, gargling -- you name it, I'd do it! (Particularly the gargling!) When my husband and I first married, I once bathed three times in one night. And in college? Wow! I could go on and on about the group showers. I was SO filthy. I mean, clean.

So, what should I do? I could probably summon the energy for an amateur hand-washing, but I can't even fathom the arduous process of shaving, and unfortunately, my husband LOVES it when I shave. But what a job that would be. Back and forth, up and down, over and over. Gag me! Anyway, what's the point? My husband would just insist it was time for me to take another bath in a day or so.

No Use For A Sponge,

Terre Haute, IN

 

Dear No Use,

First things first. Is there a television in your bathroom? If not, install one immediately. Secondly, if you're too tired to participate in the bathing process, there's nothing wrong with letting your spouse do the majority of the work. If he wants to "soap you" while you watch Top Chef (though I personally prefer Hell's Kitchen), so be it. It's not like it will usurp precious time; most men can bathe an average-sized woman in less than four minutes! As for shaving? Well, don't expect your husband to jump at the chance. Men love to be freshly shaven themselves, and have even been known to pay professionals for it. But reciprocating the favor? You're better off buying an electric razor and doing it yourself.

Cheers!