Stranger Danger

The TV advertising business revolves around multi-million dollar negotiations referred to as “The Upfront,” in which bulk ad inventory for the entire new season-year gets purchased upfront. Similarly, Stranger Danger is The Upfront of all conversations a parent must have with their children during the season-year, requiring a 100% upfront buy-in from your child.

My Five-year-old doesn’t accept the platitudes often thrown at kids as cautionary rules. He needs details, and he needs to weigh them carefully on a case-by-case basis. For instance, last weekend during Eight’s soccer game, Five decided to go for a walk in the woods next to the playground with an older boy he didn’t know. Husband– situated equidistant between the playground area and the soccer field–had the nerve to turn his head toward the game for several moments. As Husband tells it, after a few harrowing minutes of yelling Five’s name (yes his given name, no not his age) and after his debating trails branching out in opposing directions, Five came skipping out of the woods with his new buddy—smile upon his face.

Even knowing that Husband counseled Five appropriately, I still could not refrain from my own cross-examination. Five explained to me:

First I said no. Then I said yes. Then I said no. Then I said yes and I just walked straight so I wouldn’t get lost. END OF CONVERSATION

Yes, he actually declared our conversation over. Having already endured a similar inquisition from Husband, and having already confronted similar future expectations and guidelines set, Five had reached his lecture limit.

Ad agency buyers once responded to me in similar fashion when I tried packaging 75 Spin City spots into an ad buy for 2 Entertainment Tonight Weekend spots. I recognized this moment as one that necessitated I switch tactics immediately, or drive 1975.5 miles directly to Beverly Hills for a good-will luncheon at The Ivy.

Have you seen Good Will Lunching? It stars you trying to get your client to do what you want them to—like give you millions of dollars, or listen and do exactly as I say so you live to age 6. A five star restaurant provides the locale, and the dialogue includes lots of tiptoeing-making-nice while smiling and talking about favorite movies, vacation plans, and botched kitchen rehabs. This spectacularly unwitty banter decorates your carefully laid subtext of gaining affection–so at that exact vulnerable moment when your client forgets themselves over a Jennifer Aniston sighting, you might massage 125 Maximum Exposures into the Spin City/Entertainment Tonight Weekend deal. You sip Mojitos to stop yourself from yawning, because yawning suggests boredom and also if you yawn your soul might escape–leaping out and commit hari kari with the decorative sugar cane spear from your drink.

Anyway.

After reading a report of a nearby child enticement this past weekend in which a 6-year-old ran directly to the safe harbor of his grown-ups, and considering Five’s love of isolating himself with older strangers in wooded areas, I knew we needed to revisit the Stranger Danger conversation in serious upfront negotiation fashion.

First, rest assured that I know full-well the likelihood that if harm befalls my children at the hands of a grownup, that grownup will be someone familiar to them. God forbid. My kids will tell you that pretty much The Only Person On Earth–including Husband and myself–allowed to go near their private parts or ANYWHERE UNCOMFORTABLE is Ms. Doctor Pediatrician and only under specific situations and terms, followed by a lame Bob The Builder sticker and nothing lure-worthy.

And yet. You should see what they do to each other.

Anyway.

Seeing as Madison, Wisconsin boasts neither a Georgette Klinger for tandem-massage pliancy nor a Nobu for Toro D’oro distraction, I had to corner Five in his booster seat for this exchange. On the way to Eight’s soccer game this morning I started role playing possible scenarios with the kids. I started with easy questions—or what we used to call “beach balls” in sales (as in easy to hit even if your hand-eye coordination resembles mine): What do you do if a grown up you don’t know asks you to go with them? What if they ask you to help them find the cutest kitten in the galaxy? What if he promises to show you his jet pack? What if the grown up says come with me and I’ll give you gummy lunchables AND Baby Bottle Pop?

Five thought for a moment and then responded…

If he had candy, I’d probably go.

After channeling my calm, then tweeting him, I did exactly as trained–citing the sales presentation verbatim: Yell No! Run! Find your grown up! At which point Five recalled the time we lost him at the zoo (this time on my watch) and we found him only because he talked to some male strangers!—one father with kids, one zookeeper—and stayed put! until we found him!

Apparently Five has already placed his budget with my competitor–the one with lost kittens, verboten candy, future technology, and very likely the new Power Ranger mini figures.

I need to find a skybox and a case of Veuve Clicquot Kool Aid Fun Fizz. Fast.

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