Copyright The New Yorker
Oh, you’re doing baby-led weaning? We did that, too! It’s really the only way to raise confident, independent little humans. That’s why we decided to take it a step further and do child-led parenting. Hold on one sec—yes, Caleb, my love, how can I help your journey? I see. Yes, I understand that your heart wants to watch “PAW Patrol” right now, but remember you broke your iPad, so—O.K., yes, you can watch on my iPad. Great problem-solving! Anyway, yeah, we started with gentle parenting, but we found that we were having difficulty maintaining boundaries. And then Derek and I realized that we’re smart, capable people, and there’s no reason to believe that our son isn’t just as smart and capable. So we stopped enforcing boundaries. Instead we said, “Caleb is the one who needs to be parented. He should be in charge of deciding how it’s done!” Actually, you know what? Caleb, my darling, I’m reflecting on our previous interaction and I fear that my saying, “You broke your iPad,” was really blame-forward phrasing and might cause you feelings of shame or guilt. No, you’re not feeling that? Well, just to be safe, I want to revise my words so that they carry less accusation. How’s this: “Your iPad became broken while in your possession”? That’s better. Right, yeah, you can keep watching “PAW Patrol.” As I was saying, it’s going really great so far. Like, my sister’s son has been having all kinds of tantrums—clearly a textbook need to assert control—and it’s driving her crazy, but we don’t have that problem because our family prioritizes open and honest communication so that Caleb knows he’s always in complete control. Oh, Caleb, my dearest, before, when I used the word “broken” to describe your iPad, it might have come off as harsh, verging on ableist. I am so sorry for that. The words we use are important, so I vow to try harder in the future. Your iPad got an ouchie and now it’s sleeping. And none of that is your fault. Not even that big crack where you smacked it against the car. I mean, whenever I hear about kids having meltdowns over eating vegetables or getting dressed for school, I’m, like, whaaat? Caleb knows that we trust him to make the right choices for his body. And one of those choices was not starting school yet. Six is just too young! Wait, Caleb, my heart, when I said your iPad was “sleeping,” I think that was maybe patronizingly euphemistic, and I certainly don’t want you to associate bedtime with being ruined forever. We have a hard enough time getting you to sleep as is! Ha-ha. I’m only kidding, of course. It’s perfectly natural for children to need their mothers upward of five times per night well into adolescence! But, as a sign of my respect for your intelligence, I will rephrase: “Your iPad got an ouchie and now it doesn’t want to perform.” Yeah, we looked at Montessori schools and Waldorf schools, but Caleb didn’t think either was right for him. And we agree! All that sweeping and soup? It’s a little New Age woo-woo if you ask me. Seriously, parenting doesn’t need to be so complicated. Yes, my sweet boy? Oh, the other iPad got an ouchie, too? Jesus Chr—no, no, I’m not mad at you. Of course not. You are the most exquisite creature in the universe and nothing you do could make me love you less. But let’s take some calming breaths while I check to see if this iPad is completely—yep, completely dead. Not dead. I mean boo-booed or whatever cutesy, non-accusatory thing I said before. You know what? Let’s do a few more calming breaths. Ahhh. O.K., why don’t you do a coloring book instead? Or no, yeah, you’re right, you can just watch “PAW Patrol” on my phone. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, child-led parenting is really the only way to do it! Two hands, Caleb. Are we thinking about having another? No. No, no, no, no. God, no. It just wouldn’t seem fair to Caleb to divide our attention like that. Caleb, do you feel like you have a plan for how to maintain a safe grip on Mommy’s phone as you hold it precariously over that sewer grate? You do? O.K., I trust your body completely. Also, is it a good idea to bring another child into the world right now? You know, with everything going on, and the environment, and all that stuff? No, no. We’re happily one and done. So happy. For fuck’s sake, Caleb! ♦ Humor Preparing for the Impending Apocalypse Like, you may need to bike to Canada at some point. The Weekend Essay Putting ChatGPT on the Couch When I played doctor with the chatbot, the simulated patient confessed problems that are real—and that should worry all of us. The New Yorker Interview How Lionel Richie Mastered the Love Song The artist discusses touring with Tina Turner, what he learned from Marvin Gaye, and the “most important note” to hit—in music and in life. Fiction “Final Boy” “Oh, you write fan fiction,” she said. “We all write fan fiction,” I told her. “Some of us are just more honest about it.” Fiction “Unreasonable” I was raised to believe that no human is inherently evil, that evil is a surface disturbance caused by fear, misunderstanding, or ignorance. I’m now reconsidering. The New Yorker Interview Brandon Taylor on the Quandary of Black Art The author discusses his latest novel, “Minor Black Figures,” and the discourse around racial subjectivity. Poems “I Consider Myself” “When Soto went crosstown I couldn’t / believe it, the traitor, the bat in front of / that sculpture Judge.” Life and Letters The Art of the Impersonal Essay In my experience, every kind of writing requires some kind of self-soothing Jedi mind trick, and, when it comes to essay composition, the rectangle is mine. Humor Parenting Currency Exchange Rates 1 diaper blowout that gets on your clothes = 3 pukes that get on your clothes Shouts & Murmurs R.F.K., Jr.: A Day in the Life Why riding underneath the car is safer than riding inside the car, and other neato things to learn from the Secretary of Health and Human Services. Shouts & Murmurs Potential Slogans for J. D. Vance’s 2028 Presidential Campaign “I’m just a guy, standing in front of his country, asking it to ignore the past decade of his life.” Shouts & Murmurs Ask the Dog Doc C’mon, I’m a dog. We sense these things. It’s a tumor. I give the guy two weeks.
