Authors: Jim Mullen
The Hiltons’ Guide to Raising Children
R
aising happy, well-adjusted children isn’t easy. You’ll have some sleepless nights, but in the end, remember, if you do it right, you’ll be the first people they call for bail.
Hire the Right Nanny
A lot of people think a nanny should be trained in child psychology, nursing, and nutrition. But we found that a pretty blond with big boobs works just as well, even if she can’t speak English. It keeps dad happy and when he’s happy, everybody’s happy.
Tough Love
Children are always testing you. Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile. That’s why it’s so important to put your foot down. But you have to be creative, you have to make the punishment fit the crime. Once, we told Paris that we’d fire her maid if she wouldn’t let her in to clean her room. And we did, too. Paris cried for almost five minutes but she learned a big lesson. Which is: don’t become too attached to the help.
Self-Esteem
Give your child a unique name, something that is hers alone. Like naming her after the city where she was conceived. There’s nothing quite like the look on an eleven-year-old’s face when she figures out how she got her name. There’s nothing like the emotions that will run through you the first time you hear your child say, “Ewww, that’s so gross! What if my friends find out?” Priceless.
Set Limits
We suggest three or four million dollars a year. If you give children more than that, they’ll think money grows on trees when we all know it really comes from grand-daddy.
Respect Your Children’s Privacy
Don’t go snooping around Face Book trying to find sex videos starring your children. Those videos are extremely private and meant only for their three or four million closest friends. Looking at them means you are no better than the stalkers, strangers, the Russian mafia and lonely men on oil-drilling platforms who have already seen them.
Emphasize the Value of an Education
Explain to your children that if they don’t learn math, they might accidentally over tip. If they don’t study geography, they’ll never know the difference between a vacation in Capri and one in Majorca. If they don’t study history, they won’t know how Columbus discovered Plymouth Rock.
Communication
Communication between parents and children is crucial. Many problems are caused by simple misunderstandings. Whenever we’re going to be globe-hopping for more than a couple of months, we almost always leave the kids a note on the fridge door. “See you next March,” or something like that so they’ll know how much we care.
Set Boundaries
Your rules may be different, but we always make sure that the Middle East and North Korea are “off limits” for our children unless they’re with someone we know or with someone who’s really famous.
Know Their Friends
Are your children hanging around with the wrong crowd, picking up bad habits? All too often we run into parents who don’t realize that a child’s friends have more influence on them than their parents do. All our children’s friends have been to the best drug and alcohol rehab centers in the country. They are top notch. It just makes common sense—they’re our children, we owe them the very best.
Pick Your Battles
Does every conversation with your child turn into a fight? Why not do what we do? Go shopping. In Milan. Or Tokyo. There’s nothing like a spending spree to cheer everyone up. Or go to a spa together for a week or two. Take a break from all life’s little ups and downs.
Discipline
Sometimes, you have to lay down the law. Which is why we have a lawyer on retainer just for that reason. We call him whenever the children misbehave and he gives them a good talking-to. Then we send them to the house in Cabo to let them think about what they’ve done.
Is Food Good for You?
O
n the nightly news last night—in the middle of the constipation, heartburn, erectile dysfunction, high blood pressure, diabetes, and arthritis remedy ads—there was a story that claimed eating vegetables might be the cure for constipation, heartburn, erectile dysfunction, high blood pressure, and diabetes. Some government agency released a report that said eating vegetables may increase my heart function, improve my digestion, lower my risk of getting cancer, and let me stay healthier longer.
How do they allow such quackery on television without even a disclaimer at the end explaining the pitfalls of eating vegetables? Where’s the “May cause flatulence, loss of body fat, regular bowel movements, increase in energy and sweet, baby-sweet breath” warning at the end? They didn’t even say that I should contact my doctor before starting to eat a diet that includes vegetables or that pregnant women should consult their physicians before eating vegetables. Is that legal? Have vegetables gotten FDA approval? Has there been any lab testing on them? I’ve been to my pharmacy a thousand times for heart medicine and blood pressure medicine and I’ve never once seen any vegetables on the shelf. But get this—you can buy them over the counter at practically any grocery store! You don’t even need a prescription.
It’s all part of Big Farma’s diabolical plan to wean us off drugs and pills and make us eat roughage and unprocessed food. They use a thousand smarmy marketing tricks to get our kids hooked on vegetables. They grow vegetables in a lot of different flavors, like children’s vitamins, just to make them taste good. What a cheap and sleazy ploy that is. Thankfully, most people don’t fall for it.
And what are the dangerous side effects of eating vegetables? We’ll never know. Why? Because there are there no nutrition labels on vegetables! How many calories do they contain? How much trans-fat? How much sodium? They don’t tell us; there’s no nutrition label on a tomato. What are they trying to hide? When I take a fistful of pills, I don’t have to worry about counting calories. Are vegetables deadly? Some reports say that if you eat fifty pounds of carrots a day it will kill you, yet they let school kids eat them.
Most important, where do vegetables come from? Are they made in big, clean sanitary factories like my heartburn medicine? Are they made in giant, government-inspected facilities like my constipation medicine? No, they are not. Most people would be surprised to learn the unbelievable truth—that almost all vegetables come from filthy, dirt-covered fields! Dirty, dirty, dirty places called farms. Some of them, like potatoes, are even
buried
in the dirt. You don’t even want to know what some of Big Farma’s farmers spread on their fields to help them “grow” their vegetables.
Many vegetables are crawling with insects. If you can believe this, it’s how many of them are “fertilized.” It’s disgusting and yet it doesn’t prevent Big Farma from making dubious health claims about them.
What are their interactions with real medicines? What are the risks involved? Is it OK to eat vegetables if you have high blood pressure? Diabetes? Heartburn? Are vegetables covered by your medical insurance? No. You have to bear the entire cost of your vegetables. One hundred percent. If they were beneficial, wouldn’t your insurance company pay for them? And how do vegetables get to market without going through the same rigorous, double-blind testing that got us Zetia, Vioxx and fen-phen? Would you let your family eat a bunch of untested, untried vegetables? Do you want to be the guinea pig for that?
Farmers with their quack claims about the health benefits of vegetables are taking high-paying jobs away from the American pharmaceutical industry and from medical professionals. Write your congressperson and ask them why vegetables don’t have to undergo the same rigorous testing as Prilosec and Metamucil.
It wasn’t long ago that hundreds of people were sickened by eating vegetables in a chain restaurant. A lot of them ate dishes with tomatoes in them, but some of them said they didn’t. So, it’s got to be the tomatoes, right? It couldn’t possibly be the minimum-wage busboy who didn’t wash his hands after using the restroom because he already washed his hands once today. It must be the tomatoes.
It couldn’t be the grabby three year-old behind you who crawled on the floor, then sucked his fingers, then touched everything he could reach on his way out; if he got sick, it’s got to be the tomatoes.
It can’t be the ice they put in your soda just because it comes from an ice machine that hasn’t been cleaned since the day it was first installed; it’s got to be the tomatoes.
It couldn’t have been the guy who sneezed as he walked past your table without covering his nose; it must be the tomatoes.
It couldn’t come from touching the menus that have been handled by every customer that’s ever been in the place as well as the staff. There’s no way that could transmit germs; it’s got to be the tomatoes.
It’s not the cash you just got out of the ATM machine, or the change in your pocket. Everyone knows there’s a secret ingredient in money that kills germs on contact and that no matter how many people with filthy hands touch it, it can’t transmit disease; it’s got to be the tomatoes.
It can’t come from the French fry your boyfriend snatched from the pile on your plate with the same hands he had been using to clean the fish tank twenty minutes ago; it’s got to be the tomatoes.
It’s not the hamburger you ate with your bare hands after driving the rental car you picked up at the airport two hours ago. Because we all know they always disinfect those steering wheels; it’s got to be the tomatoes.
It couldn’t be touching the snot-encrusted Game Boy that Junior and his little brother were fighting over all morning that you finally snatched and put in your purse so they wouldn’t fight at the table; it’s got to be the tomatoes.
It wasn’t the diaper you just changed in the rest area family room; it’s a well-known fact you could eat off the floor in those places. It’s got to be the tomatoes they put on your BLT.
It couldn’t be the plastic utensils in those little buckets in the company cafeteria. Sure, it’s hard to grab one fork without touching two of the others, but one little touch can’t spread germs. It’s not like they’re tomatoes.
It couldn’t come from the telephone. Sure, every time you touch it you’re practically sucking up someone else’s dried spit, but we all know it’s the tomatoes. What else could it possibly be?
There’s no way disease could be spread by children. Talk to any parent or teacher and they’ll tell you they rarely get sick during the school year. It’s only when they eat, touch, or walk past a tomato that they start to feel ill.
Whoops! Wait a minute. The FDA just announced it’s perfectly safe to eat tomatoes. It turns out that they’re actually
good
for you! Go figure. Thank goodness this scare didn’t put every tomato grower in the country out of business—it just cost them tens of millions of dollars that they’ll never get back.
What I Did on My Summer Staycation
T
his year Dad said we couldn’t afford to go anywhere farther than the backyard because of the gas prices. It took Dad two days to get the RV into the backyard, but when he did it was great.
Camping in the RV is a lot of fun. Dad lets us watch videos there that Mom would never let us watch at home. One day I watched all three
Shrek
s in a row. And he lets us wear the same clothes two and three days in a row. Mom wanted to go on vacation with us, but she said she had to stay home and work. Sometimes she’d come out to see us, but most of the time after work she would stay in the house. She said that was vacation enough for her.
Last year we went to the Grand Canyon. It was really great. The best part was that they have donkeys you ride down to the bottom. Donkeys are like horses but they have stupider names, like Sally and Buttercup. No cowboy would ever ride a horse named Buttercup so I said I wouldn’t ride down there until they gave me a boy donkey. The guide came over and looked at my donkey and said, “What stupid cowboy told you that was Buttercup? That’s not Buttercup, that’s Jolly Roger. Buttercup doesn’t have a white spot on her forehead.” I felt sorry for the stupid cowboy because everyone laughed at his mistake.
Sometimes Rudy, who lives across the street from us, would come over to hang out. He was on vacation, too. His Dad filled up their back yard with sand and put up a volleyball net. We would go over there sometimes and Mr. Delfino says it’s the best vacation he’s ever had. He says he may never mow the lawn again. Once, Mrs. Delfino yelled at him for tracking sand through the house but he didn’t seem to care. He said she should come out and let him rub some sunscreen on her back. It didn’t sound funny to me, but she laughed.
My sister Halley just turned fourteen and she is so snooty. She acts like she’s fifteen. She and Dad fight all the time. “I need a real vacation,” she said. Dad said, “A vacation from what? The mall? I tell you what, how’d you like a vacation from that cell phone for a few weeks? I can make that happen.” She made a face and went into her room and locked the door. It made me remember how much she hated the Grand Canyon because her cell phone didn’t work there.
On the way to the Grand Canyon we stopped to see my grandma and that was fun, because she lived in the Olden Days before they had video games and chicken wings. She says kids didn’t used to talk back then and they knew what the word “no” meant. That must have been a long, long time ago. I asked her what her favorite hip hop music was and she said they didn’t have music like that when she grew up. She said the TV only had three channels and they didn’t have DVDs. They didn’t have anything when she was a kid. She must have been really poor. I told her she could use my iPod if she wanted to, but she said she wouldn’t know how to use it. What’s to know? You turn it on and scroll through your playlists.
“What did you guys do for fun?” I asked her. She said they made cookies and pies in a bowl; you didn’t buy them in a store. I thought she was joking but she said she’d thought she’d make some cookies right now. It was fun. Kinda. Especially the part where you lick the spoon. If you don’t lick the spoon, the cookies won’t come out right or something. Even Halley liked the cookies and she doesn’t eat practically anything.
We couldn’t visit Grandma this summer, so I called her and told her that if she wanted to have some fun too, just make some cookies and send them to me. And she did. They were OK, but they weren’t the same. I think she forgot to have someone lick the spoon.