Oooh. I just received a charter invitation to a new magazine, Cookie, designed to help me find children's products that are "frankly, up to your standards."
Just in case your household wasn't, ahem, sophisticated enough to receive this offer, let me share some of its enticing topics:
- Top adoption lawyers who will "help you adopt a healthy baby the fastest"
- Children's collectibles, such as original sketches by contemporary artists
- How to make even the most exotic foods acceptable to young palates.
- Having the nanny accompany your family on vacation
- Disney world passe; include dog sledding in Alaska and hotels with kid concierges
- Natural childbirth the new trend among socialites
- Where to order exclusive, imported kids' skin and hair products
- Acing the preschool interview
This is not a joke. These were the actual selling points of the magazine.
Tell me again how I got on Cookie's mailing list?
The only statement in the letter that doesn't offend my value system asks if I want to
- dress my little ones in classic style (yes)
- surround them with great design (yes)
- stimulate their young minds with quality toys, books, music, and art (yes, yes, yes, and yes).
While I do want these things, my purpose in providing them is not to promote "a sense of style and sophistication to the younger set".
Cookie strikes me as a magazine that supplants conscious parenting with ad-fueled desires. Too cynical? At best, this magazine might be like its eponymous treat, meant to sweeten already balanced parenting.
Or, more likely, turn a taste of "the good life" into an appetite for consumption.