Two questions seem to find their way into the news these days with regard to our children.  Why are they obese and why are they not able to read? To begin to solve the mystery step into a typical American home on Saturday morning and have breakfast. Sitting across from you, one hand on the remote, the other clutching a Little Smoky Sausage, you’ll find our obese four year- old engrossed in a television set filled with cartoons. In front of him sit a bowl of Captain Crunch and Little Debbie Cakes. Welcome to the Twinkie Zone. 

The schedule in the Twinkie Zone is five days of work followed by one day of sleep and goes something like this. Mom worked all week and Saturday is her “day off” while Saturday for our Little Johnny means getting up at the usual pre-dawn time. However, there will be no day care today. Sure, he’s wired and ready for another big day but today is Saturday and he’s in the Twinkie Zone and that means trouble for mom. Enter the idiot box, the perfect baby sitter for our little guy.  Getting him there and keeping him there will be tired mom’s morning mission and she does it with a series of carefully thought out enticements. First there’s cartoons… created by geniuses with the four year old brain in mind.  Cartoons with characters from Sponge Bob to some super “zero” entertaining our guy for as long as it takes. And how long it takes depends on how long mom needs to get a few extra winks in on her well deserved “day off”.   Our four year old is perfectly capable of eating cereal and Smokies (finger food of course) by his lonesome because they combine the best of both worlds…sugar and salt. Throw in the Debbie Cakes and we may be looking at going to the next level in the zone. A few years down the road decisions will have to be made regarding our guy’s teeth, as the Captain Crunch sticks to them like a barnacle on a Bayliner boat, but in the Twinkie Zone those decisions can be put off. After all, he’s going to get some more teeth in seven years or so, why waste money on these?  Now the advantage to the little smoky is in its handling. Less than an inch long and slender, it lends itself to two bites at most and as our guy matures into a major player at the table, one bite will do it. Crunch comes in large boxes so it will always be there as long as the milk holds out and Dad’s mission (which he most always accepts) is to make darn sure there’s enough milk to last through this Saturday morning ritual. Failure to secure milk by Friday evening can lead to a confrontation with mom and then everyone ends up eating eggs, toast and smokies with our little guy in front of the TV. Mom gains weight and dad pouts because he knows he must soon begin the yo-yoing that comes with dieting with mom. It all started with the milk or lack there-of. 

 

Meanwhile, as our little guy has turned into a big guy he’s discovered the Twinkie Zone is not only found at home but in any room with a television. He’s graduated from cartoons (well some of them) to sporting events but has retained his fondness for sweet and salt. Keeping his fondness for Crunch he’s broadened his eating skills to include Jimmy Dean sausage and waffles at the local waffle house. An occasional steak with his eggs rounds out that big boy breakfast he’s been trained to eat since he was four. Oh, did I mention he’s still eating with his fingers? Well, why not? The Jimmy Dean rolled up fits nicely into something that resembles that thing he was so fond of years ago on Saturday mornings. Never used a fork then, why start now? He’s also into gaming because it reminds him of his breakfast friend so why read? His imagination is being fed by some geniuses with the twenty year old brain in mind. The last book he read was something about a Cat In A Hat and that was read to him. Since then he hasn’t had to read so he doesn’t read. Mention reading and he’ll rip off a good text message to prove he’s a “reader”, plus there’s that roach like thing hanging from his ear. Why read?