7 Ways My Preschooler Is Like a Kardashian
Public urination. Questionable taste. Unintelligible ramblings. Am I describing a preschooler or a Kardashian? Trick question. These are features belonging to both. Perhaps I’ll dub my own preschooler Special K so she can join the club of Kris, Kim, Kourtney, Khloe, Kylie, and Kendall. After all, she is in Pre-K, which may as well indicate a Kardashian in training.
Without further ado, here are 7 ways my daughter is like a cast member — sorry, kast member — of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.
- Look at me! She wants us to watch her no matter how mundane or repetitive her activities. “Look at me!” (She’s sliding down the slide for the umpteenth time.) “Watch me, Mommy!” (She’s twirling around in a circle till she’s overcome by dizziness and falls down in a heap.) “See what I did!” (She pooped.)
Each time she jumps from the koffee table to land on a kouch kushion, I must affect amazement. Most of her stunts are run-of-the-mill but sometimes I watch with my heart in my mouth: Is she really going to klimb onto the windowsill before jumping, rolling to her feet and then vaulting over her Disney Kastle like she’s mastered Parkour for Preschoolers? Yep. Often, I’m impressed with her athleticism. (She gets this from Daddy.)
- Self-absorption. No one is as interesting as she is. Refer back to #1. She’s never met a mirror she didn’t like. That meal you slaved over? No, thanks. Except in place of the “thanks” she puts the plate on the floor for our Kat, while she waits for “something good.”
- TMI. With short updates from “I’m gassy” to full-blown stories with no konceivable end, my preschooler is a konsummate oversharer. Many times she kan be seen hopping from foot to foot and holding her krotch, saying, “Pee-pee, pee-pee!” (She gets that from Mommy.)
Full disclosure: I’ve never actually watched an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. I’m just not strong enough. However, I did hear about the episode where Khloe was enlisted to judge which sister’s, um, kookie jar smelled better, Kourtney’s or Kim’s. (Kim’s, in kase you’ve been living under a rock.)
- Sensationalism. If there’s drama, a preschooler will wring out every last drop. If she hurts herself, prepare to supply All the Band-Aids. Youhurt her by accident, and you’ll never hear the end of it unless Social Services takes the bait, and your child.
This brings us to a mini mystery, one which may explain our queer fascination with Kardashians and preschoolers, namely: How much are they aware of their own bullshit? I mean, at first, do they know they’re lying, but do they end up being taken in by their own lies? It may be the greatest mystery of our time.
- Mercurial as to kommitments. Dora. No, Paw Patrol. No, Dora and Friends. Not that episode. No, wait, that episode. Kris Humphries.
- Mugging for the kamera, yet requesting privacy. All depends on mood. She wants attention but under her terms.
- Public urination. My dear one kan do that one in her sleep. And has. I believe it was Kourtney’s husband and honorary Kardashian Scott Disick who gets kredit here. He has been known to relieve himself in trashcans, both at home and out and about. The only difference is my daughter is now potty trained.
Speaking of “honorary,” more on Lord Disick. That’s right, on a trip to England, he purchased a royal title so he wouldn’t have to “walk around like some peasant.” Not sure why he didn’t go for Kount. I think he missed an opportunity there. Then again he’s not a blood relative. But here’s the weird thing about Kourtney’s baby daddy. He’s the ultimate riddle: full of himself and klueless, yet out of The Silly occasionally emerges a nugget of truth, even, dare I say, wisdom. Like a fortune kookie from hell. (There are examples all over if you want to find them. Reading them was enough for me; I find I am unable to type them in.)
Another thing; Apparently there was an episode where he visited a terminally ill woman after the Make a Wish Foundation informed him that her dying request was to meet him. Now, to me, the only thing more tragic than being terminally ill is to have meeting Scott Disick be your final wish. But, hey, who am I to say? And to give him kredit he did go, whether it was motivated by PR or not.
Still, it gives me an idea for that YA dystopian novel you’re writing. A mash-up ofHunger Games and The Fault in Our Stars about a game show where terminally ill teens vie to see who gets to “take someone annoying with them” when they shed their mortal koil, sponsored by the omnipresent Make a Death Wish Foundation. You get away with murder because you’ll be dead before you kan go to jail. Win-win! Sort of!
In summation, greedy and goofy, attention-seeking yet oddly fascinating, whether it’s a preschooler or a Kardashian, one thing’s for sure: I’ll never be able to keep up.
This article was originally published on