On Sunday, September 26th, my 5'7, reasonably athletic, generally intelligent, and somewhat incompetent teenage daughter, Panini, told me she had heard good things from her friends about Squid Game and asked if she could watch it.
Coincidentally, my friends had just been messaging about it, so I asked them if it was appropriate for her. My friend immediately gave my text a thumbs-down and mentioned how violent it was. So the Boss and I discussed it a bit more and decided that, no, Panini was not allowed to watch Squid Game.
Six days later, on Saturday, October 2nd, apropos of absolutely nothing, Panini says to the Boss and me, "I have a confession: I watched Squid Game."
"You did? How much?"
"All of it."
Turns out that Panini had not only watched one episode before asking us if she could watch it, but also that she then watched eight more episodes over the next four days.
My first thought was similar to that of Dave Chappelle's when he discusses Carolyn Bryant Donham, the Mississippi woman who, in 1955, claimed that Emmett Till had verbally and physically harassed her, and who, in 2007, confessed that Till had done no such thing: "Well, thank you for telling the truth...you lyin'-ass bitch."
I actually wasn't upset at Panini because despite having stolen her friend Cece's toy from her cubby when she was four, having egregiously cheated her opponent on the tennis court when she was six, and having attempted to covertly purchase $90 worth of books for her Kindle when she was 11, she usually has a conscience.
What I quickly realized is that Panini had done the wrong thing not because she is a bad kid or a liar or similar to her mother, but instead because she was set up for failure. Meaning, if a kid has a computer and that kid is allowed to watch Netflix on that computer in her room in the basement, of course she's gonna do the wrong thing.
I mean, let's be honest: If the internet had existed when I was 13, and I had had my own computer and my own room in the basement, and certain things available on the internet today were available then, I would have skipped most of my meals.
So the Boss and I discussed the issue and agreed that the first change we needed to make was making sure Panini's computer doesn't live in her room. If she wants to watch something, she can sit on the couch like a normal person and waste away her life in public.
The Boss and I only punish our kids when the natural consequences seem insufficient. In this case, Panini already felt terrible about her heinously deceitful behavior, and we felt we had set her up for success moving forward. That said, I still messaged my friends to ask for advice and make sure they were aware of Panini's vicious lies.
The same friend who said Panini shouldn't watch the show suggested we make her write an essay. As an educator, my first thought was, "Why the hell didn't I think of that?" and my next thought was, "Giddy up."
Here's the introduction...
