I don’t have children. I’m not a teacher, and I stridently
ignore the little people incessantly playing portable videogames in every
public place imaginable. But I’ve just found out that I’m seriously in the dark
about a modern phenomenon: I thought those little people were “kids”. Well
buster, they’re not. Those are Tweens, the latest American sensation.
I might as well have been sailing across the world for the
past few years in an exact replica of the Mayflower. I had no clue. Merrily,
even cheerfully, I’ve gone about my business, thinking nothing was amiss. When
I was a child, the system was pretty straightforward. If I asked my parents for
something, anything, that was non-essential to my day-to-day survival (i.e.
anything other than bread, water, or iodine tablets) I received a stern lecture
on frugality, was forced to execute 50 push-ups in rapid succession, and was
sent off to sleep on a concrete slate to further consider the virtues of
thrift. If you were a kid, you were supposed to be at least semi-miserable. You
were the young goat of the human kingdom, and nobody was impressed. Why? Well
nobody really knew why, that’s just the way they had been doing things for
centuries. But it was okay, because eventually you graduated from the serfdom
of little-people land and became an adult.
Somewhere along the line the whole kiddie-cart as it were,
was tipped over. All the sudden adults became fascinated with kids, who were
too old to derive satisfaction from a clean game of Ring Around the Rosie
(toddlers), but too young to have their first inkling that it might be fun to
smoke a carton of cigarettes while trading raunchy text messages all afternoon
(teenagers). Kids were no longer fantastically obnoxious twerps just a
few years removed from soiling their pants on daily basis. A new classification
emerged for this “between” group suspended in the purgatory of not-adult land.
These runny-nosed adolescents, this selfish, narcissistic clan of tantrum
throwing spoilsports and whiners had a new name: they were Tweens. Mini Adults.
While it would have been entirely excusable to leave this group of people alone
until they had actually done something to warrant our attention, a cadre of
child psychologists and Just Do It! suburban housewives decided that we all
needed to stop fast in our tracks and devote a solid portion of our waking
hours to this confederacy of brats.
Contrary to every intuition of mine that is decent and pure,
I’ve learned the following: Tweens have opinions, identities and personas. They
have important feelings and emotions that have to be considered and
lavished-over. Tweens mean business, they want the world, and they want it now.
Tweens have zest and zing. They are sophisticates. Life is not hard for Tweens,
it is a comfortable escapade that one saunters through with a stuffed belly
full of Fried Jalapeno Poppers. Tweens live by several mantras, here is one:
“Gimme! Me!” If a Tween falls in the forest, the current protocol is to
immediately run to his or her aid with a newly purchased iPhone and a knapsack
full of DVDs. Tweens should be lauded and respected. If you are a parent and
your Tween is not the most utterly stupendous, most amazing once-in-a-lifetime
miracle that has ever happened to you, you are a hideous, unworthy ogre.
Tweens have clout. As has been widely reported in the media,
after several high-level meetings, the nation’s advertisers placed a
seething-red bulls-eye on the Tween demographic. The reason for this, and for
their ever-expanding power, is so obvious: Tweens are practically drowning in
cash.
How’s your discretionary income looking? Well, as any
advertising Jack or Bob worth his Sprite will tell you, Tweens wallets are
practically snow-blowing cash day and night (although a recent story in the New York Times suggests that the economic crisis might curtail some of their fiduciary bravado). “Tweens are so reliable, so
consistent. They, collectively, are an unstoppable Cash Cow…picture Godzilla in
braces with a Visa Gold Card” says dazed
marketing executive Taylor Trumbell. Trumbell adds, “When I was a lad,
sometimes I’d pop down to the corner store to buy some animal crackers or
marbles with my meager allowance, but this generation is different…they come
into the mall guns blazing, and they don’t stop until the amount of merchandise
is literally impossible to carry. Then, they hire a team of elephants or a
helicopter to cart it away.”
How did they get this cash? Who cares. There is a nasty
internet rumor that behind every Tween stands an exasperated father or mother
with a gargantuan credit card bill, but to that I say, “Stuff it in your craw,
Daddy!”, to which Daddy would say, “Um, okay sport. Sounds great!” The truth
is, Tweens are high functioning and operate as autonomous purchasing machines
that will stop at nothing until every silly machine, overpriced wardrobe, and ridiculous
gadget has been emptied from the country’s malls.
While this might seem like a positive for us adults (if only
because it will allow us to find the things that we want and can actually
afford, like bananas and paper clips), in reality it is an ominous sign. We are
at the cusp of the French Revolution in Parent/Tween relations and things are
only going to get increasingly ugly. You see, when the lower classes gain
momentum, and can see the mantle of power glowing on high, the rebellion is
truly under way and nothing can stop its progress.
Which is why I fully expect to be led to the guillotine by a pack of gum chewing Mylie Cyrus look-alikes in the not-to-distant future.
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