teen and parents establish congenial distance-enhanced relationship

BY KATHRYN A. HIGGINS

VERDANT ESTATES AND BILGEWATER, CT -- Kortny, a 14-year-old girl, and her mom and dad (aged 45 and 49, respectively) reached a détente last week when they decided to un-cohabit.

The teenager remained at the family's four-bedroom colonial in suburbia while her parents moved into a small, urban, one-bedroom apartment near an elevated train station.

"It's so peaceful here," sighed Helen, Kortny's mom.

"Yes, this move has worked out well for all of us," said her dad, Bill.

The usual snarls, temper tantrums, pleadings, yelling, and hostile silences that had characterized the family's social intercourse were suddenly transformed to cheerful text messages accompanied by smiley faces and animated cell-phone calls.

"We can relate to Kortny -- on her terms," said Bill.

"We just stock up her groceries on Saturday and pay her cable bill," said Helen.

"And we gave her a credit card," said Bill. "It was worth it."

"It's totally cool," said Kortny.

The family expects to maintain this living situation until Kortny's graduation from high school, or her graduation from college, or perhaps until she is married. In fact, they even have contingency plans to keep the suburban colonial to house Kortny's kids when they reach their teen years.

"It takes a community," said Helen.

"Or just colonial in the suburbs," said Bill. "That you can't live in. But, if we continued the way we were going, I wouldn't have been able to live there anyway. After the divorce and all."

Kathryn A. Higgins is writer and mom living with her two children in Connecticut. She recently received her MFA in Writing from Sarah Lawrence College. Her publishing credits include: McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Real Simple Magazine, health.com, Sanskrit, farmhousemagazine.com, Whatever, and Musings; she has also written a regular column for the Connecticut Post, as well as features for various newspapers, and is a reader for the Paris Review. You can reach her at: kathrynahiggins@aol.com.

obituary

A PIECE OF THE SOUL OF MCKAY, ANDREA J -- Age 35, passed away on the afternoon of September 4, 2010, while back-to-school shopping with her family in JCPenney. Autopsy reports are not yet conclusive, but the preliminary investigation suggests the homicide may have been caused by several factors, including: too many hours shopping with a third-grade son who desperately needed overpriced clothing, causing stress to McKay and her husband; and a five-year-old daughter who whined enough to cause serious emotional turmoil. Track lighting and an uninspiring clothing selection may have also contributed to the fatality.

Eyewitnesses to the death reportedly heard the daughter continuously cycling through sayings like: "It's not fair that Aidan gets clothes but not me." "Nobody loves me," "You guys hate me," and "I can't help it that I'm crying 'cause it's not fair," while begging for Webkinz and Hannah Montana tees. Witnesses also claimed to observe the 5-year-old dragging her feet and pulling on her mother's arm for hours.

When interviewed, McKay's husband looked distraught. "I tried to help her, but it was too late," he said, shaking his head. McKay's husband then raised a can of Miller High Life and toasted his wife's soul, saying: "I'll never forget the perfect part of my wife that died today. But I hope it's moved on to a better place now, may it rest in peace."

McKay's Soul is preceded in death by the final elements of her Youth and her Sanity, and is survived by several less perfect, less kind, and less patient parts of her soul. McKay's Soul also leaves behind two often-tearful children, a large ill-mannered dog with an eating disorder, an adorable puppy who continues to pee on the floor, and a loving and handsome husband.

Memorial services will be held at the local Crazy Cowboy bar over margaritas and a bowl of guacamole. 

Andrea McKay is a wife, mother of two, a high school teacher, and a vegetarian. She wishes two of those details were lies. Her blog: A Little Bit Rock N Roll. She can be reached at: ajmckay65@yahoo.com.

better late than never?

BY REBECCA REITZ
 
CEDAR RIDGE, IL -- A local Mom recently endured quite a shock. As many residents may be aware, a small room labeled "Late Pick-Ups Only" is located beside the main entrance of the Cedar Ridge Library. After hours, patrons can access the room to retrieve books they have on hold. In other words, "late pick-up" refers to written materials and not children. Unfortunately, 35-year-old Marie Rosworth thought the room was a refuge for one's offspring.

Mass confusion has set in as a result of the library board's good intentions to provide the service. All went sour when 3-year-old Donovan Rosworth was left in the "late pick-up" room until 2:00 a.m. last Tuesday. Now, next month's board meeting is sure to be saturated by a sense of malcontent as board members struggle to take appropriate action to remedy the conundrum. Apparently, a lack of clear wording led to the current debacle. Supporters of the defendant have already voiced disgust that a library, of all places, would be the site of such a linguistic error.

Little Donovan remained unattended and alone for six hours. Following Tuesday night's story hour, his mother told the youngster to make his way over to the late room. Per her instructions, he was to remain there until she was able to return at an undisclosed time. Marie Rosworth was elated the reputable public institution provided such a service for parents who "simply needed to get stuff done." Turns out Mrs. Rosworth indeed had a lot to get done, as Donovan was there until two in the morning.

On a routine parking lot patrol, Officer Burman of the Cedar Ridge Police Department found Donovan around 12:45 a.m. in the pick-up area, sleeping underneath a stack of Twilight books. He made his way to the entrance and woke Donovan who appeared disoriented. Repeated mumbles about Edward and Bella led Officer Burman to know the child had made good use of his alone time. Apparently he finished the first book in the Twilight series in a little under four hours.

Many citizens of Cedar Ridge are outraged. Most cite how coincidental it is that Marie Rosworth returned to pick up her child around 2:00 a.m., the same time local bars close. "I mean the audacity and recklessness of some people!" exclaimed one resident who chose not to be identified. Despite the uproar, Mrs. Rosworth claims she was simply at the 24-hour SuperTarget. As stated in the police report, Donovan possesses a tendency to wander when in stores and Mrs. Rosworth shops alone out of necessity.

Officer Burman says that, after getting over the initial surprise, he truly enjoyed the conversation he had with Donovan. "The boy is a literary genius of sorts. His perspective beats those of my own teenagers!" he said with a smile.

This very sentiment has fueled Marie Rosworth's fervor as well. "I mean, if I was so negligent do you really think my 3-year-old would be able to read already?"

With that intellectual debate put aside for now, Rosworth does face charges of neglect, endangerment to a minor, and failure to use common sense. She continues to insist she thought the late pick-up was for children and not books. Due to Donovan's young age and his unwillingness to be pulled away from the latest Stephanie Meyer novella, he was not available for comment.

As a side note, Donovan is Team Cullen.

Rebecca lives with her husband and two small children in Illinois. Both of her sons adore the alphabet, therefore making it difficult for her to retrieve the computer keyboard needed to write things like this critical news story. Looks like she may have to find a town where "late pick-ups" really are for the kids!  

7-year-old takes revenge against mom

BY KATHRYN A. HIGGINS

MIANUS, CT -- Last week, a 7-year-old boy took revenge against his mother for refusing to read the book he wanted at bedtime. Instead, to his chagrin, she insisted on reading a book his 9-year-old sister had chosen.

At first, the boy tried sitting on his mother's head, yanking the sheets and covers around inconveniently while the mom tried to read, punching his sister, stomping his feet, and whining -- all to no avail.

"Behave yourself or you'll have to go to bed right now -- without a book," threatened his mother.

Perturbed, the boy decided to take his grievance to the world-at-large. Recently empowered with the ability to write, he got a notepad and a pencil, and wrote these words: "my mom poops and my mom pees."

Satisfied, he tore out the page and wrote again: "my mom poops and my mom pees."

He continued publishing this message, making five copies.

The mom and the sister each received a copy. The father received a copy. The boy's teacher received a copy. And his best friend received a copy.

Unfortunately, the best friend's big brother took the document, scanned it, and posted it on the Internet.

The family has been dealing with the fallout from the international broadcast of this damning and humiliating information.

"I know he didn't mean any harm," sobbed the boy's mother. "Well, actually, he did but I don't think he realized how bad it would get. The whole world knows..." She could not continue.

For now, the family has remained living in their community, but they are considering moving to another state or perhaps a foreign country.

Kathryn A. Higgins is writer and mom living with her two children in Connecticut. She recently received her MFA in Writing from Sarah Lawrence College. Her publishing credits include: McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Real Simple Magazine, health.com, Sanskrit, farmhousemagazine.com, Whatever, and Musings; she has also written a regular column for the Connecticut Post, as well as features for various newspapers, and was a reader for the Paris Review. You can reach her at: kathrynahiggins@aol.com.

red team beats yellow team in first grade basketball

BY WENDI AARONS

DAVY CROCKETT ELEMENTARY -- Ethan Johnson has sometimes struggled this season while learning to play the game of basketball, but it sure didn't look that way on Saturday.

Johnson scored a record-setting four points as his team, the Super Awesome Pokemon Red Raiders (aka the Red Team), possibly defeated the Super Cool Jedi Fighting Warriors (aka the Yellow team). "I know we're not supposed to keep score," said Ethan's mother Laurie. "But I'm pretty sure we kicked their little asses. Oh, can I say asses? Maybe I should just say booties. Whatever, just know that the Yellow Team can suck it! Boo-yah!"

A boisterous crowd of 30, mostly parents and younger siblings, packed the gym/cafeteria and watched as Johnson, a 4-foot tall 7-year-old, nearly doubled the team's shooting percentage. The two baskets he made, out of approximately 101 attempts, showed a record improvement in actually getting the ball within 10 feet of the hoop.

"That first basket he made? It bounced off my head and then went right into the hoop!" said Red Team power-forward Danny Smithson. "He's such a lucky duck!"

Ethan has also excelled this season at what his coach Mark Wilson calls "the loose-ball scramble." "He's always the first player to start the dog pile," said Wilson. "Whenever the ball's up for grabs, he'll fight like hell for it. Especially against one of his own teammates. Now that's hustle, man."

Coach Wilson then went on to talk about the Red Team's overall improvement. "Once they stopped picking up the basketball and running down the court with it like they were rescuing a cat from a fire," Wilson reported, "I knew the next steps would be to work on dribbling the ball on the floor, not on their own feet and to hopefully stop giving each other wedgies during practice."

There were two major turning points in Saturday's game that led to the Red Team's triumph. The first came when the Yellow Team's star player, Kevin Reed, got a fast break and dribbled the ball into the hallway so he could get a drink and go to the bathroom. "I had to go number two!" explained Reed. "I really couldn't hold it any longer! And if I had an accident, my mommy would have been really mad! Now just leave me alone, OK? I AM NOT A BABY!"

The second turning point in the game came when the Yellow Team's point guard, Liam McPhail, skipped off the court to go play with his daddy's iPod, thereby giving the Red Team a huge advantage and allowing Ethan to score his second basket of the game. "It was so awesome!" yelled Ethan. "The ball bounced off the wall, then off the other wall, then off the referee's head and then wiggled around the top of the hoop for a few minutes and then it went straight into the basket! And it still counted!"

The Red Team's next match-up will be against the formidable Superhero Hulk Monster Trucks (aka the Green Team) next Saturday after the Boy Scout's Bike Rodeo. "I hear the Greenies have a husky 8-year-old on the team," said Coach Wilson. "But I'm not worried. If my guys remember to dribble the ball with their eyes open and go potty before the game, we'll be just fine."

Or, as future junior college basketball team walk-on Ethan Johnson put it, "Yeah, whatever. As long as we get pretzels and juice boxes after the game, I don't really care what happens. Can I go home now?"

Wendi Aarons lives in Austin and has written for McSweeney's Internet Tendency, The Big Jewel, HybridMom, Austin Woman Magazine, Parentwise: Austin, and many other places that she can't remember because of her raging Pinot grigio habit. A few years ago, Wendi obtained a weird sort of fame when the letter she wrote about Always Maxi-Pads for McSweeneys became an internet hit. Now people send her e-mails about their periods. Prior to breeding, Wendi was a copywriter. Prior to Texas, she worked in various capacities for Warner Bros., The Gersh Agency, and Walt Disney Pictures. Wendi is currently writing her first book, blogging, and giving advice with her hilarious friends at Mouthy Housewives. And sometimes, when she has a few minutes to spare, she drunk dials that bastard Larry King. Find out more at www.wendiaarons.com.

coming soon to a toy store near you

BY BOB THURBER

Small representations of human figures, constructed of materials that range from clay and bamboo to stone and ivory, keep turning up in ancient burial sites around the globe. Archaeologists surmise that many of these doll-like artifacts were not meant as children's playthings at all, but served primarily as religious instruments and burial objects. -- Toys, Totems and Taboos, by Angus Wilcox Wilson

The author wishes to thank the following for permission to reprint excerpts from their esteemed publications: T.I.N. (Toy Industry Newsletter); Whatz Hot, Whatz Not (Publishers of Whatz Shot Yearly); and Toy World's Weekly Wind Up.

ITEM:

Utilizing the slogans "Talk to the doll that talks back" and "Meet Gabby -- a pal for life" Mantel Toys Inc. this month unleashed a media blitz of commercials, print advertisements, and events to coincide with the shipment of its latest addition to toyland: Gabby Girls.

These computerized dolls, which require no batteries, no pull-strings, and virtually no programming, rocked the toy industry this week and were met with overwhelming public demand. Said one representative: "Mantel has succeeded where other companies have failed by creating an ultra-sensitive synthetic that is virtually identical to human tissue. This remarkable vinyl substance can be molded to create uncannily lifelike dolls. Gabby Girls not only drink, cry, wet, walk, speak, and digest solid foods, but now thanks to OP (On-the-fly Processing) technology, they also feel and learn from their interactions."

OP technology is buzzing on the lips of industry analysts, who compare the dolls memory capacity to about 6 terabytes.

Talk To The Doll That Talks Back

Initially equipped to say only, "Hello, my name is Gabby. Want to be buy me and take me home?" once out of the box and disengaged from its neutralizer (a small metal spike that is part of the eloquent packaging), the doll enters "recognition mode." From that point on, Gabby engages in interactive conversation with its owner and attempts to "learn" where it is and who it lives with.

"It's remarkable," said one buyer, who asked not to be identified. "I don't even have children and I went right out and bought two. I stood in line for 18 hours."

Virtually every major manufacturer showing its wares at this year's Toy Fair had a comment about the new dolls.

"By Christmas, every girl in the country will be hounding her parents for a Gabby Girl," gasped one buyer.  "Mantel's got our Slinkies in a sling and they damn well know it!"

Fidel Costa, a buyer for U-Buy-R-Toys, said, "In the 1960s, adult-featured dolls, such as Barbie, came into vogue. Then in the mid-1980s the Cabbage Patch Kids attracted wide attention when each doll had a different face and came with its own name and birth certificate. But this, God help us, I've never seen anything like this!"

Kids Style “Gabby” To Their Personalities

By utilizing OP technology, Mantel Toys has taken a giant step forward by incorporating into each doll a "raw" or "blank chalkboard" CPU.

"The doll attempts to match its personality precisely to the needs and requirements of its child owner," said Costa. "Even when the doll is completely ignored, it continues to scan for input. Not only imitating the five senses of humans but utilizing a sixth techno-sense known as Embryo Synthesis. That's the key! Embryo Synthesis enables the doll to record and interpret data necessary for future interaction with the child. For example: if the child is sad, the doll will be funny; if the child is hyper, the doll will be soothing. It's a babysitter's dream. Some of the demos I've seen knocked me for loop. I watched Gabby recite Mother Goose to a sugar-hyped eight-year-old. The kid fell over like a ton of bricks. Parents may never have to tuck their kids in again."

However, not all the buzz around the new dolls is soothing to Mantle. "Gabby Girls try to make sense of what they see and hear around them," says Malcom Kelp, an associate professor of education at Boston College. "That's potentially dangerous in this day and age. Adolescence is often a troubled time of rebellion and rage and a "Gabby Girl" may respond to that anger. While playing house, for instance, the dolls copy their child-owner's patterns to a tee, but when they view the actual workings of an entire household, they become confused -- 600 trillion megabytes enable it to invent a dizzying array of plots and strategies. In addition, the dolls often end up imitating violent behavior from cartoons, action-adventure shows, videos, and commercials. When faced with a parent's disciplinary action, the dolls may respond defensively on behalf of the child-owner."

ITEM:

Surgeon General Warns Consumers: Don't Buy Two!

Executives at Mantel Toys Inc. remained silent today as various consumer groups, vindicated by the Surgeon Generals "unofficial" statements, scurried to head off two-time buyers by warning them of risks. "We must teach parents, as well as children, that these hi-tech dolls are not toys," said Debbie Dorrito, a spokesperson for the Northeast Chapter of PATTI-CAKE (People Against Toys That Injure Children And Killed Elvis). Speaking from a bunker set up in the parking lot of an unidentified retailer, Ms. Dorrito pointed to studies which hint that introducing more than one Gabby Girl into the home makes it nine times more likely that someone in the household will shout "Turn that damn thing off!" seven times more likely that someone will punch the doll in the kisser, and five times more likely that someone will be seriously injured by one or both Gabbys.

ITEM:

"These dolls won't shut up! And they've threatened to harm us." -- Sister Mary of Mercy, director of the Neverland Orphanage in Scotia, New York, speaking at a Candle Vigil Press Conference one month after Mantel Toys Inc. donated 100 dolls to the orphanage.

ITEM:

"Blame Gabby! She masterminded this tragedy," says Randolph Helman, a court appointed attorney for Lesley Carlson of Cambridge, Massachusetts. His client is being tried as an adult for the double murder of her parents in their North Andover home. Lesley's Gabby Girl was presumed destroyed in the fire that took the lives of Mr. and Mrs. Carlson and destroyed four adjacent homes.

ITEM:

In the recent blockbuster animated movie, Gabby Goes To Gettysburg, neither the North nor the South succeed in killing off the courageous Gabby, who mutilates and murders "bad" parents (and sometimes "bad" grandparents) in their sleep. (Anybody smell a sequel in the works?) But in toy stores throughout the country, Gabby has been severely maimed. Last week, Mantel Toys Inc. acknowledged that it had halted production of its 24-inch talking doll. The company is apparently yielding to pressure from several consumer groups as well as the PTA, who called for a boycott of stores and mail-order companies stocking the doll.

ITEM:

When toy-gun manufacturer Bang Gotcha bought Point Blank Toys last fall, the company immediately added such venerable products as "Gabby Zappers" and "Indestructible Disposable Muzzles" to its lineup. But Oh Gosh & Golly, the fourth largest U.S. toymaker, struck a staggering blow this week when it unveiled its "Pop 'n' Play Crematory." On the highly flammable, flashy box is a full-color picture of a doll resembling a Gabby Girl engulfed by spikes of orange and red flame.

Oh Gosh & Golly, which also makes Sound Proof Doll Domes and the NEW Gabby Guillotine, earned $93 million in the first three quarters of 2007, while Mantle lost $33 million in the same period.

ITEM:

Mantel's burdens grew worse this week as the parental death toll mounted, which coincided with a dearth of successful new anti-Gabby products. Last week, in an apparent effort to avoid several thousand law suits, the Chicago-based toy company filed papers requesting political asylum, stating that "although the dolls are assembled in the US, the limbs, torso, head, and electronic components are all manufactured in third world countries." The matter is currently before Congress.

ITEM:

Godzilla Novelties is now shipping Destructor, a life-size robotic dog resembling a Doberman that comes complete with "Destructor-drool," "oscillating razor teeth," and a certificate good for a FREE gallon of "hydraulic acid" for disposing of Gabby's remains.

There is also a comic book, sold separately, that shows kids how they can train Destructor to do other tricks -- like shredding a Frisbee and "scarfing down repugnant vegetables" from the dinner table.

ITEM:

Mental Marvels, a respectable Educational Game manufacturer, announced this week it will be offering 14-inch infant dolls named Gabby's Sick Siblings. These "terminally-ill" replicas of Gabby Girls project "chunky white vomit" from their mouths when squeezed. Micro-organisms in the "vomit" should, a company spokesman promised "infect their big sisters." The FDA has launched an investigation to determine whether the "vomit" is harmful to humans.

ITEM:

"Nonsense," said Henry Dinkins, general counsel for former toy giant Mantel Toys, when asked about newly announced wrongful death suits. "It's a doll with a life of its own for God's sake. We're not responsible for its actions once it moves out of the factory."

ITEM:

This Week’s Top-Selling Gabby Busters

1. MIDDLE-AGE MUTANT NINJA NANNIES (Stern Gabby sitters that take no prisoners.)

2. ROBO-PARENT. (A metallic avenger with a 10-pound steel hand and a mind to use it.)

3. G.I. GOD (A militant deity dressed in commando fatigues, with a lightning bolt wrath that should keep Gabby in line.)

ITEM:

"Though we'd love to pin the blame on the Chinese, I'm afraid we're going to have to bite the bullet on this one." unidentified spokesperson for Mantel Toys Inc.

Bob Thurber is an old, unschooled writer living in Massachusetts. Over the last decade, his work has received dozens of awards, including The Barry Hannah Fiction Prize, and numerous citations, most recently a finalist for the Donald Barthelme Prize. His debut novel Paperboy will be released in the spring of 2011. Visit his website at www.BobThurber.net.

the fraud

BY TARJA SETTLES

APB Issued 11:07 PST -- The mystery surrounding the fraudulent charges against a 21-year-old girl pretending to be a toddler's mother has finally been solved.

The girl feigned knowledge in a variety of maternal subjects, from Infant's Motrin ("You know it's been recalled.") to the art of diapering a boy ("You point it down. Wait. How do I know that?").

While authorities tried to determine the whereabouts of the real mother, confusion abounded. The husband didn't even know his wife was missing, but most perplexed was the young girl.

"Dude, I wish I could tell you how I got here, but it's a blur. One minute I was graduating from college and moving to New York City and figuring out how to open a bank account and write a resume and going to bars and sitting in Central Park and the next thing I know, I'm waking up next to this guy and there's a baby in the crib down the hall and he's all adorable 'n' shit and I'm like, whoa."

She likened the situation to the movie The Hangover, but the police were skeptical about the veracity of her story.

"I don't know," said the Chief of Police. "Maybe someone did drug her and dump her in the suburbs. Then again, maybe someone didn't."

The close-knit community reeled from the duplicity.

"I just thought she was the au-pair," said a mom in the toddler's music class.  "She looked so…uh…Nordic."

A customer at Whole Foods added, "I knew there was something strange about her. She had no idea what she was doing in the produce aisle. And then she put a jar of olives in her cart."

As for the toddler, he seemed perfectly at ease with the imposter. According to a teenager down the street, the baby had been calling her 'mommy' for the past year and a half. "Sooo creepy!"

The Chief said, "It's totally normal for prisoners to connect with their captors.  It's called Something-holm Syndrome. Katie Holmes Syndrome. Yeah, that's it."

However, the toddler's maternal grandmother recently stepped forward and set things straight, claiming that the fraud was, in fact, her missing daughter.

In her statement, she referred to the Criminal Investigation Unit as "blind as a baboon's butt" and chalked the situation up to her daughter's "very active imagination" and "genetic propensity for youthful features."

The daughter/missing mother/fraud also released a statement: "I'm still not quite sure how I got here, but yeah, I think I'm a mom. I found the c-section scar just the other day, so I guess I am completely responsible for another little human's life. Which makes me all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-awesome. Kind of like Frodo with the Ring."

After lengthy questioning, she was released into the waiting arms of her husband and baby.

Just in time for a lovely Mother's Day brunch.

Tarja is a stay-at-home-mom to a 21-month-old who gives new meaning to the word "spirited." Once -- long, long ago -- she was a member of Cornell University's sketch comedy group, The Skits-O-Phrenics. She is frighteningly comfortable in karaoke lounges and believes in the healing power of guacamole. Despite being an insanely talented writer and poet, she has yet to be published in anything of importance both because she is lazy to the core and because her son is a "spirited" napper. Much to her embarrassment, she has entered the blogosphere. Stop on by at: The Flying Chalupa. You can contact Tarja at: theflyingchalupa@gmail.com

NATO napkeeping aide enlisted

BY ANN IMIG

BREAKING NEWS -- NATO napkeeping forces were brought in at 12:30 CST to broker a fragile cease-crier.

Negotiating a truce required concessions by both parties. Two-year-old agreed to desist the shoulder-fired-diaper missiles (in accordance with the NATO Napkeeping code of ethics) when threatened with story-time sanctions. Mommy conceded her "last shred of sanity" for verbal negotiations, finally responding to repeated toddler distress calls.

NATO forces created a temporary emergency nap-camp in "Mama's Bed," but toddler unrest in the form of eyeball poking and peekaboo forced both parties to abandon negotiations. NATO Allies hope to bring both parties back into mediation, citing the centrality of a proper nap to the region's health and stability. Protesters surround the nap-camp holding signs proclaiming: "Napism is Facism" and "Let My Toddler Go!"

Ann Imig writes humor essays and fiction after her two young boys fall asleep at night and before she herself collapses. Her writing has been featured on numerous humor sites including McSweeney's Internet Tendency, and her flash fiction placed in the Top Ten in Women On Writing's Spring 2009 Contest. She blogs regularly at: Ann's Rants.

no marching band at private school for athletic and well-adjusted

BY ELIZABETH BASTOS

PEAS VALLEY, MD -- The Orrfield Gully School in Peas Valley yesterday became the first private school in the state to outlaw marching band.

"We'll allow a drum corps," said the Headmaster, B.C. McClarendon, Class of '48. "But that's as far as we feel it's healthy for our student body to go."

He added that Orrfield alumni become captains of industry, finance, law, and medicine because of the school's solid football program, "not because they studied the glockenspiel or tuba."

"What I've learned through re-education is that the tuba is a ridiculous instrument. The place for it is at Oktoberfest, in an oompah band,” said Chloe Van Sant, former faculty liaison to the marching band. She now heads up the school's recycling program and is, she says, glad for the break from incessant rehearsals in the rain in the dark wooded area behind the school's incinerator where she had been forced to relocate practice after the band was kicked off campus -- before being outright outlawed.

"The only place for low self-esteem is the art classrooms, and we still grudgingly offer art," Patrice Long, Dean of Parent Re-Education and Relations said. In Long's opinion it's misguided. "Some parents still want kids to draw, paint, and 'think outside the box,' but the box at Orrfield is great."

Elizabeth Bastos is a stay-at-home mother of two under five. Before having kids, she worked in corporate and foundation relations, and before that at the Museum of Science, Boston. She moonlights writing in the very early mornings before everyone gets up and wants things. In the little free time she has, Elizabeth makes complicated French patries to tempt her kids into doing what she asks. Her work has appeared in Terrain.org, The Delmarva Review, McSweeney's Internet Tendency, Tar River Poetry, and the Baltimore City Paper. Beginning in May, Elizabeth will have her own column on errant parent. Visit her blog: Goody Bastos. Elizabeth can be reached at: elizabeth.bastos@gmail.com.

coal dad indicted

BY SUE MARRA BYHAM

SNOOTVILLE, PA -- Simon Sed, the notorious "Coal Dad" and Snootville father of four, was indicted yesterday on disorderly conduct following a fracas at the Prisci Preschool attended by his youngest son.

The Sed child (whose name has been withheld due to age and vulnerability, although experts agree he has already been scarred for life) precipitated events by bringing a lump of coal to school and frightening the other students during naptime with a lurid tale about ruined holidays. The lump had been obtained by his father at an old railroad crossing and placed on the family dinner table the previous evening.

"Few children have ever seen a lump of coal," Mr. Sed explained to police in an attempt to defend his heinous behavior. "I presented one to my children as an object lesson."

In fact, Simon Sed had threatened his offspring with the Christmas-morning receipt of a single lump of coal presented in one of his unwashed socks and nailed to a brick-colored cabinet (which, according to his estranged wife Lou Sed, was all the stingy S.O.B. could provide in the way of a fireplace).

The child's teacher acted quickly to both confiscate the coal and call in the school's child psychologist. And according to a statement read by the teacher at a meeting of concerned parents: "It is true that three couples -- whose firstborns are suffering from recurring nightmares about a Christmas without largesse -- have negotiated a settlement to pay for psychiatric care, but rumors that the school will close due to the expense of defending a class action lawsuit are unfounded."

In a school meeting immediately following the incident, Mr. Sed insisted he had never intended for his son to be a proselytizer, "much less a smuggler," and he accused the school of being lax in providing the sort of security "that made it possible for a child to enter the building with a lump of coal hidden in his stocking cap."

Prisci's principal countered with: "It's the responsibility of the parent to search the child for ordinary objects. Strip-searches at Prisci are weapons-focused only."

At which point Mr. Sed hit the Principal with the lump of coal and had to be restrained by several witnesses.

A letter sent to prospective parents on the school's waiting list referred to the security breach that had resulted in so much misery to so many innocents: "In a firm response to the urging of a horrified community, we have determined that effective following the Christmas break, all toddlers entering the school will be strip-searched. And their parents will be also."

Simon Sed has vowed to appeal his conviction, claiming religious persecution. "My wife and I are atheists who believe strongly in Santa and retribution," he said.

The child's new foster parents have removed him from the Prisci Preschool to an undisclosed location in New England for an experimental therapy involving total immersion in the accepted holiday traditions, including compulsory gift-giving without judgmental prejudice.

"Let us say once and for all that there are no 'bad' children," said a lawyer representing the parents of the three most grievously debilitated youngsters. "To suggest otherwise, especially with minors present, is unconscionable."

Mr. Sed's lawyer responded: "If there is such a thing as a quaint holiday tradition, surely the receipt of a stocking with a lump of coal in the toe is it."

Recriminations and retaliations are expected from one and all.

Sue Marra Byham is the Grand Prize Winner of our Holiday Fake News Contest! Sue receives $50, errant parent merchandise, and Kentucky bourbon! Sue lives with her family and other wildlife in a backyard habitat where Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Delaware collide. She has twice been honorably mentioned in The Year's Best Fantasy and attributes her ability to sneak a little fantasy into everything she writes (even CD liner notes) to the fact that as a child her adoring parents smothered her with Christmas gifts and refrained from making any serious or lengthy references to coal. Sue can be reached at: byham@kennett.net.

family survives thanksgiving visit with relatives

BY KATHRYN A. HIGGINS

PURCHASE, NY -- A family of four survived their annual pilgrimage to visit relatives on the West Coast last year, but just barely.

"It wasn't the crowded airports or the cost of tickets or the broken-down rental car which was the last one the rental company had," explained Sue Smith, mother of two. "It was my husband's family. For a while there, I wasn't sure we'd make it."

After checking to make sure her husband was out of earshot she continued. "Every November we load our kids into the car and drive to JFK airport -- a nightmare in itself -- to take a plane to Oregon for our annual visit with my husband's family. We visit his elderly mother, who lives with his sister and her husband."

After a long day's travel, the family checks into a hotel and then heads to their sister-in-law's house, which serves as home base during their visit.

"There's no place to even sit in their house," announced Emily, 12, who was shushed by her mother. The sister-in-law's house's amenities include a couch with broken springs, two Swedish chairs with sharp wooden arms, and piles of paper that haven't been picked up for years. In addition, the brother-in-law is an Emergency Preparedness fanatic, so he's storing the town's arsenal of crisis equipment in his house. "You could do surgery with the amount of stuff he has," said Smith.

To make matters worse, the in-laws make regular trips to Costco and store gargantuan packs of toiletries, paper goods, cleaning supplies, snack foods, and jumbo jars of peanuts in the back bedroom.

"When we're there with our two kids there’s no place to sit," said Smith. "Besides the broken couch and uncomfortable chairs, the family room is monopolized by a 72" flat screen TV, which is ironic because my brother-in-law says 'Oh, I don't watch TV much -- just a little History Channel.'"

Except for Thanksgiving dinner, the Smith family must eat out every meal because their in-laws don't cook, despite the fact that the kitchen is crammed with goods.

"You have to pry the refrigerator door open because the handle has been broken for a year. It's full of stuff. God-only-knows-what because they don't cook, except for my mother-in-law's Lean Cuisines," said Smith. "You can't even find the light bulb in refrigerator because it's so full of ancient bottles of stuff. There is a dusty lazy Susan full of spices next to the stove but I’m not sure how long since it’s been used.

"Over the long weekend, we have hamburgers at least five times. And when we're not preparing to go to a restaurant, eating at a restaurant, or returning from a restaurant, we're either at the mall or a movie, because there's no place to go in the house," Smith sighed. "It's exhausting."

Smith's 31-year-old niece-in-law recently moved back home with her parents to pursue yet another degree, so the visiting family has to vacate posthaste whenever the niece is tired because she sleeps on the living room couch.

"She has to sleep there because her room is full of Amway stuff her mother sells or used to sell," said Smith. "They also store the piano in her room; it's covered with the personal care products."

If the traveling and the exhaustion and the hamburgers and the dust weren't enough to kill them, the Smith family has to be polite and gracious and helpful throughout the torturous three-day visit.

"My face hurts from fake smiling," said Smith. "And whenever I offer to help we have to perform this stupid charade: first they say no, then they acquiesce, and then I'm stuck trying to put things away in the kitchen-from-hell. It's nerve-wracking. Don't tell my husband, but when I'm there I feel like I could shoot somebody."

Smith's husband, who is the reason for the life-threatening annual visits, is oblivious to the potentially fatal torment suffered by his wife and children. "He golfs a lot," said Smith. "And he likes hamburgers. But those hamburgers will get him sooner or later."

It wasn't always this bad. "The year before last, my sister-in-law revolted and demanded her husband move some of the stuff out of the garage. So, he moved it all to one of the bedrooms and now she can park her Toyota in the garage for the first time in 30 years," said Smith. "But the house got worse."

"It's bad for us, but I feel sorry for my mother-in-law. She's been living there for two years and they still haven't taken their stuff out of her little bedroom."

Smith has already booked her family's trip for this year. "I have to. It's a family obligation," she said bravely. "But I intend to survive the Survivalists. This year I'm bringing narcotics."

Kathryn A. Higgins is writer and mom living with her two children in Connecticut. She recently received her MFA in Writing from Sarah Lawrence College. Her publishing credits include: McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Real Simple Magazine, health.com, Sanskrit, farmhousemagazine.com, Whatever, and Musings; she has also written a regular column for the Connecticut Post, as well as features for various newspapers, and is a Reader for the Paris Review. You can reach her at: kathrynahigins@aol.com.

school bus driver improves time by 40%

BY KATHRYN A. HIGGINS

HARTFORD, CT -- Fledgling school bus driver Sam Christo has improved his driving time by 40% in the three weeks since school started. Whereas on the first day of school it took him nearly 35 minutes to pick up his designated elementary school students, he was able to do it yesterday in less than 25 minutes.

"It was tough to make good time the first few weeks," said Christo, as he relaxed with a cigarette after his morning route. "I was still figuring out the neighborhoods, getting to know the kids, and dealing with moms who wanted to chat. But now I've gotten my time down significantly, except for that one glitch today."

Christo's average suffered slightly when he was delayed by a mom on Center Street who ran out of her house in her pajamas and waved frantically to get him to stop for her kids.

"You're at least five minutes early," she said to Christo, citing the bus pick-up times listed at the beginning of each school year in the local paper.

"No, I don't think so," said Christo, checking his watch.

It turned out that Christo's watch was set five minutes ahead of the Center Street mother's, who later confirmed hers to be accurate. 

The bus driver, while asserting his watch was correct, added "I try to run two minutes ahead of schedule."

Which makes him, according to the frazzled mom, at least seven minutes earlier than expected.

As the bus roared off, a group of moms convened to decide who would make a run to school with all the items their kids had forgotten in the confusion.

A neighbor of the Frazzled Mom said: "My son is new to the whole bus thing and he's pretty nervous about it. His teacher and I have come up with a rewards program -- smiley faces and whatnot -- to encourage him to take the bus. It messes up our system when the bus is early and he misses it. He refuses to get in the car."

Another neighbor, whose kids usually board the bus in front of the Frazzled Mom's house, claimed: "My kids have missed the bus at least half the time this year -- much more than last year."

"It's frantic chaos when the bus arrives early," said the Frazzled Mom. "Stuff gets left behind and I have to drive it to school; it makes me late for work.”"

The Frazzled Mom had sent an email to the school principal the previous week, when the school bus had whizzed by during a torrential downpour. According to the F.M., Center Street is a thoroughfare for the town's fleet of school buses, so although she and her kids had noticed a bus speeding by early, they had no suspicion whatsoever that it was theirs.

"We were pretty much on time, although we were fiddling with our umbrellas," said the F.M. "We waited out in the pouring rain for 10 minutes before our neighbors yelled that the bus had gone by early. So, I loaded the kids in the car and joined the caravan to the school. It was dark and rainy and the school was deluged with hundreds of cars, as well as torrential rain. So, I sent an email to the principal."

The principal of the elementary school acknowledged the email and forwarded it to a public school Bureaucratic Functionary, whose apparent job is to act as a buffer between parents and bus drivers. The B.F., goaded into action, immediately sent an email to the F.M.

"I will sent this [sic] to the bus driver's manager. But the buses, by law, are not allowed to stop if there are no students standing at the stop. The buses are not allow [sic] to stop and wait. Yes, over the years they would do this, but as of last year the state is enforcing this because of the heavy travel [sic] roads. And it sounds like, because they took cover, no one was standing there as the bus went by."

The F.M. then responded to the B.F. saying it defied common sense for the bus driver to race past bus stops, especially on days of torrential rain, and that her street was not that well-traveled except for speeding buses, and that it was a case of either the bus slowing down enough to pick up kids in bad weather or the school being swamped with traffic in bad weather, and that none of the kids on her street had made the bus.

The B.F. then fired back an email loaded with incredulous exclamation marks.

"There are 8 stops along Center Street and you say 17 students didn't get picked up!!!!!!"

"I didn't want to engage any further with the B.F., so I forwarded the whole email exchange to the School Superintendent and then I went back to work," said the F.M. "I never heard anything back."

Record-breaking bus driver Christo was unaware of the exchange. "It really helps my time that I don't have to stop if kids aren't exactly at the bus stop," he gloated, receiving high-fives from his fellow bus drivers for his dramatic time improvement. "The less I have to stop, the more my time improves. If I can beat the kids in the beginning of the route, then I am more likely to beat the kids later in the route.

"Center Street has been especially good to me," Christo added. "It's a thru street and they don't enforce the speed limit at all, so I can really haul ass through there if I'm careful not to look sideways and catch the eye of some parent."

No traffic-related incidents or deaths have occurred yet this school year on Center Street, but it's only October.

Kathryn A. Higgins is writer and mom living with her two children in Connecticut. She recently received her MFA in Writing from Sarah Lawrence College. Her publishing credits include: McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Real Simple Magazine, health.com, Sanskrit, farmhousemagazine.com, Whatever, and Musings; she has also written a regular column for the Connecticut Post, as well as features for various newspapers, and is a Reader for the Paris Review. You can reach her at: kathrynahiggins@aol.com.