If they can’t spell “tiara,” they shouldn’t compete for one

When it comes to mindless television entertainment, Anita and I seem to gravitate to TLC.

I’ve already written about “All-American Muslim” (“Feelin’ Low about Lowe’s,” December 13, 2011) and the now-cancelled “Sarah Palin’s Alaska (“I Visited Alaska with Sarah Palin and Didn’t Even Get a Shirt,” June 20, 2011); we’ve also watched “Cake Boss,” “Extreme Couponing,” “Say Yes to the Dress,” “Four Weddings,” and “What Not to Wear.” (I refused to watch “Kate Plus 8” more than once because Kate Gosselin was absolutely insufferable and although my family’s not small, it struck me as irresponsible to pump out so many children that you had to film their every move in order to generate enough income to feed and clothe them.) I now have a better idea of what kind of cake to order when I throw myself a debutante ball, know to avoid horizontal stripes if I want to look slimmer, and have pledged to arrange my money-saving coupons in photo albums in order to achieve maximum shopping efficiency at my local grocery store.

The votes have been tallied and the results are in: “Toddlers and Tiaras” has won the Singh-Diehl Trophy for Most Puzzling, Repugnant and Oddly Compelling of the TLC Reality Shows.

What’s puzzling is how the producers are able to obtain any of the participants’ permission to broadcast their abhorrent behavior on national television. Don’t these people realize how yucky they seem? Are the producers promising them so much fame and fortune that they’re willing to reveal their poor parenting skills if they can laugh all the way to the dance studio or children’s boutique?

People have already objected to how the show sexualizes little girls. But wait. It gets worse.

We’ve lost count of how many mothers are obviously striving to achieve their own dreams of enhanced self esteem, trophies and tiaras and the adulation of small audiences crammed into hotel ballrooms at the expense of their innocent, trusting, nose-picking dependents. (I’ve never witnessed so many little digits unabashedly exploring so many tiny nostrils for such extended periods of time before.)

We’ve learned that nose-picking isn’t the only thing young pageant participants like. More than one claimed to enjoy cheerleading, dancing and playing with Barbies. Another preteen said her favorite activity was competing in pageants; surely there was no coaching involved in that revelation. A competitor named Cassadee “wanted to be a teenager and then a dentist” while another participant planned to be a “doggy-doctor” when she grew up. And it was disclosed that one eighteen-month-old’s favorite food was popsicles. (I was quite surprised since I assumed toddlers preferred coq au vin and ratatouille.)

We’ve stopped asking each other why the mothers aren’t brought up on charges or at least investigated by children’s protective services, why the fathers all seem like spineless twits who lack the ability to discern when their spawn are being emotionally damaged, and why the kids themselves don’t run away and hop freight trains bound for Tallahassee and Little Rock in the middle of the night since they’re clearly not enjoying the pageant experience to the extent their mothers insist they are. (I realize editors can work wonders in the cutting room but we’ve yet to see a child claim to want to don a giant heart costume, tutu or Daisy Dukes and prance across a raised platform without appearing coerced, and the number of major meltdowns and temper tantrums we’ve watched sure don’t convey “I really love this stuff, Mom” to us.)

We’ve agreed that it’s offensive when mothers insert religion into the question of whether their little girls are going home with the Super Duper Age Group Queen or Ultimate Grand Supreme title (which in one episode came with enough cash to buy Skittles, cotton candy, cheese dip and Beef Jerky and still have some left over). A hairstylist in Arkansas referred to “Jackin’ it to Jesus,” which meant teasing a little girl’s hair so it stood high on her head and she was closer to the Lord. And a mother was shown bowing her head, clasping her daughter Saryniti’s small hands in her own and stating with conviction, “May this problem we’re experiencing be smoothed over and patience and compassion be found in the hearts of the judges, in Jesus’ name we pray.” The monumental dilemma to which she was referring? The issue she felt so deserving of attention by none other than the Son of God that she would fall to her knees in the hotel hallway as strangers scurried about? Saryniti’s hairdresser, a family friend, had forgotten to bring a hairbrush and hot rollers and they were running short on time.

I’m not sure why we watch. Maybe it’s because we feel better about our own parenting, our judgments and sacrifices. Maybe it’s because the show is a welcome distraction from what’s happening right now in Lansing, Washington and wherever politicians congregate. For whatever reason, we’ve found that “Toddlers and Tiaras” is the perfect complement to clothes-folding and mail-reading.

TLC should prepare to produce follow-up or reunion shows so we can see how many of these poor little youngsters grow up to develop eating disorders and body image issues. We wonder how many will skip class or overachieve and which ones will demand the unreasonable from their partners, friends and family members. We’re curious to know if they’ll envy their neighbors or harbor resentment that requires medication and counseling, if they’ll emphasize the superficial over the substantive, and if any of them ends up climbing a tower with a high-powered rifle.