Some other Moms of pubescent girls and I have been talking, and we think we’ve found a solution to our problems that will not only make our lives easier, but possibly make us a metric ton of money.
I’m talking about a reality show, Tweenage Drama Island: Where EVERYTHING Is Personal.
Imagine this: twenty-five 12 year old girls are placed in a remote luxury hotel. They are each given one set of sheets, a bath towel, a hand towel, and a washcloth. Unlimited numbers of tiny shampoo bottles and cleaning supplies, etc. are available to them, but they are all in a supply closet in the basement. A full chef’s kitchen is available to them, as well as an unlimited supply of fresh meat and vegetables and ingredients like flour and spices. No pre-prepared food is available. There are no boxes of Kraft Mac and Cheese. There is no Ramen, and no Toaster Strudels. There are no maids or landscapers or chefs or anyone grownup to help them out.
Better yet, no wi-fi. Only one computer running Windows XP and they have to take turns.
Aside from strategically placed cameras to film the goings on and to make sure that any cries of “I’m dying!” are purely dramatic, they are left on their own for six weeks. Six weeks will ensure that every last one of them, at one point, suffers from life-threatening, debilitating, worse-than-anything-ever-in-the-history-of-always cramps.
I mean, wouldn’t you love to see a 12 year old holding a potato in one hand, a brick of cheddar in the other, and staring at a gutted chicken wondering how on Earth she’s going to make all of this into nuggets and cheese fries?
Or what happens when there is a wad of hair at the bottom of the pool and no one will own up to it? For that matter, who will bother checking the pool pump and emptying it out and regulating the chemicals?
What will happen if someone stops up a toilet?
You, watching at home, get to drink some of your favorite beverage every time someone says “literally” when they mean “figuratively.” You will drink a lot.
Here’s my prediction: there’ll be one girl who turns into the mother of the group, doing her best to cook edible food and getting her feelings severely out of whack when some other girl says, “you made the mess in the kitchen, you should clean it up” and another girl says, “ew” when she sees that the hated broccoli touches the otherwise edible (if a little chewy) rice on the plate.
There’ll be another girl who immediately assesses that all the other girls are morons. She will find a way to get the morons to do her bidding.
Another girl will be perfectly silent until week five, when she finally completely loses it and writes something obscene on a rival’s bathroom mirror with lip gloss. If she’s feeling especially feisty, she’ll use the Queen Bee’s bathroom and refuse to flush.
For the first three weeks, everyone will braid everyone else’s hair and compliment the length of everyone else’s eyelashes. For the second three weeks, everyone’s hair will be in a bun to hide the fact that they can no longer find their hairbrushes. Their eyelashes will have fallen out due to nutritional issues: they have resorted to eating spoonfuls of flour and pats of butter on the theory that “it’s the same ingredients as pancakes.”
I don’t know. Maybe my friends and I are projecting our daughters’ collective lack of survival skills on everyone else’s. But I’d still watch that show. And I’d love how grateful our daughters would be when they came back that Mommy is always there to help pick up the pieces.
If you enjoyed this and want to read more like it, visit Lori at her website, www.loriduffwrites.com , on Twitter, or on Facebook. For the Best of Lori, read her books, “Mismatched Shoes and Upside Down Pizza” and “The Armadillo, the Pickaxe, and the Laundry Basket.”