How droll!

Admittedly, Tomoko and I already hired a fantastic caregiver, and neither one of us is Anglo-Saxon or protestant, but still, this little item I found at the McSweeney’s website, titled, “Important instructions for the babysitters of white anglo-saxon protestant children,” was amusing and informational (at least in the ways in which WASPs make fun of themselves):

Roderick’s prayer is only to be interrupted with Wimbledon updates.

Do not allow Portia access to her iPad until she’s consumed her miso soup.

Quincy mustn’t dally with the stallions prior to jousting.

Maxwell is partial to the double Windsor.

Tipper requires an aperitif prior to snack time. She will show you where the muddler is kept. Be creative (but not ostentatious) with your amuse-bouche.

Everett is grounded. ABSOLUTELY NO FALCONRY!!!

As she has not yet been potty trained, see that Sage is fitted with disposable jodhpurs.

Ophelia is best admired from afar.

Only when his homework is completed is Forrest to be given keys to the laboratory.

Constance takes her milk with a dash of bitters.

Hortence sleeps soundest after a few chapters of Leverett Saltonstall’s autobiography.

I’d never heard of the author, Coleman Larkin, before, but, in keeping with McSweeney’s internet tendencies (!), he’s rather droll.

Last month, when I was in Las Vegas on assignment, I went for a hike in Red Rock Canyon with one of my editors, Jim, who just happened to be in town. It was a lovely day, clear and on that fine line between warm and cool that is perfect for desert hiking. The terrain itself wasn’t too challenging, but at one point Jim slipped a little and I called out, “Be careful!’

It was, I instantly realized, the exact tone of voice I use all the time with Sasha. And, I know, this wasn’t the first time I’d spoken to an adult the way I speak to my daughter. Throughout the winter, whenever I’ve traversed the schmutzy streets of New York with a friend, that “Be careful!” has come out of my mouth, as if it really will remind them to watch their step.

And this will likely go on for a while, even though I can’t stand it. I hate breaking into that sing-song voice so many adults use with their kids, but there’s almost no way to avoid it. It certainly doesn’t help that my voice is already annoyingly nasal, and that raising it a register and saying stupid things everyone already knows, in a reduced grammar, just makes people more nuts than usual.

Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe, like most of my parenting anxieties, this is all in my head, and that everyone around me just shrugs off the dad-voice. That wouldn’t surprise me.

Anyway, the pain-in-the-ass dad-voice does come in handy with Sasha, particularly when she’s misbehaving. Because that’s when I can drop it down an octave and say forcefully, with no cheery room for doubt, “Sasha, hold my hand!” or “Sasha, stop!” But please, my friends, let me know if I start speaking that way with you. Then I’ll just shoot myself.

From time to time, the DadWagon role as cultural rainmaker, social judge, and commercial stalwarts means that PR people send stuff to review and consider. Among us, Matt seems to take the service aspect of service journalism most seriously. He tends to handle these things, but since he’s dropped off the face of the earth this week, it’s fallen to me.

So, in that light, may I present you with: THE “KIDS GUIDE TO MOVIE MAKING,” A MUST READ FOR FUTURE SCORSESES AND SPIELBERGS.

Which is apparently a book. Which the fine folks at some PR firm whose name I can’t find in their email thinks that DadWagon should read–and you too! Here’s why:

“Directed toward today’s creative and technically-savvy preteens and middle schoolers, this DIY guide provides the tools required to set them on the journey of making their own feature film, complete with strong characters and stories audiences will enjoy.”

There. That’s enough for me to know that I hate this book, I hate these kids, and I hate tools, characters, stories, and enjoyment.

Am I cranky today? You bet! Is it because JP is out of school all week and Tomoko has been on a conference call for the past two hours? YEP!

And also, since I was an actor in one of the best known fanfilm productions of all time, in which, Theodore Ross, author of the forthcoming nonfiction book, plays “Major Toht,” the evil Nazi character in Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation.

We had no book, you scurvy little whippersnappers! We made the whole movie with rubber bands, carpenter’s glue, and plenty of chutzpah! And a Betamax camera donated by the rich father of the lead actor, but hey, let’s not get into the details too much, shall we.

Really, though, there is something unnerving about such a book. I think it might not be the worst way to encourage a child interested in the arts. The question is: why would you want to do that? Creative types, like your stalwart DadWagoneers, are MISERABLE. The pay is bad, society looks down and you, the chances of success are minimal at best.

A better book might be something like: “The Kid’s Guide to Hedge Fund Trading.” Or the “Kids Guide to Powerful Lobbying Jobs.”

Now that’s being practical.

For those who are curious, the life of a real blogger:

Typically, there are 100,000 visitors daily to her site, Dooce.com, where she writes about her kids, her husband, her pets, her treatment for depression and her life as a liberal ex-Mormon living in Utah. As she points out, a sizable number also follow her on Twitter (in the year and a half since she threatened Maytag, she has added a half-million more). She is the only blogger on the latest Forbes list of the Most Influential Women in Media, coming in at No. 26, which is 25 slots behind Oprah, but just one slot behind Tina Brown. Her site brings in an estimated $30,000 to $50,000 a month or more — and that’s not even counting the revenue from her two books, healthy speaking fees and the contracts she signed to promote Verizon and appear on HGTV. She won’t confirm her income (“We’re a privately held company and don’t reveal our financials”). But the sales rep for Federated Media, the agency that sells ads for Dooce, calls Armstrong “one of our most successful bloggers,” then notes a few beats later in our conversation that “our most successful bloggers can gross $1 million.”

Now, of course, we could do the same kind of business as the eminently reputable Heather Armstrong–The Dooce!–but we’d probably have to sober up. And of course, we do believe philosophically in the notion of women earning all the money, so it would compromise our principles to run DadWagon like a business.