Everything I know about parenthood I have gleaned from Supernanny - like a daring outsider, foraging through the trash for nuts.
For example, I know that kids are:
1. Practically wild animals.
2. In need of many juice boxes.
3. Capable of shitting on the floor, then putting the shit on the walls.
4. Incapable of sleep.
5. Always angry.
And sometimes, they seem to be all of these things at once. So what happens is, Supernanny comes in and tells the dying, zombie-like incompetent parents that they haven't ruined their lives by squeezing out these imps from the very depths of Satan's bowels.
They just need an extra chair on which to seat the child, and all will be well.
Seriously. That's what happens! A "naughty chair" is employed by this heroic boss of a woman - Supernanny - and suddenly the child does not shit on the walls. The child ceases to be perpetually angry. And sometimes it even goes to sleep, as though it is not some crazed super soldier from the future with its sleep-organs cut.
I tell you, that chair is a miracle sent from God. Makes me wish I could employ the technique in every day life, for regular sized people. I mean, it seems vastly unfair to me that just because I don't have children, I can't make use of a miracle item like the naughty chair.
Just think about how much time and effort and misery it would save! Your friend makes her three thousandth passive aggressive comment about your outfit? Get her on that naughty chair. Watch her cry and stamp her feet for 29 minutes (because of course, the beauty of the naughty chair is that you have to sit on it for your age in minutes: 5 years old? 5 Minutes. And if you just so happen to be 67...) while you enjoy one blissful moment of not feeling like you've been jellyfished to death.
And how about that boss of yours? The one who expects you to do twice the work for none of the reward and then shafts you when you complain? Definitely a couple of stints on the naughty chair, for that one. In fact, it kind of makes me wish God had a naughty chair, to save me the effort of forcing them on to it myself.
He could just reach down and pluck them off the ground, then sit them on a metaphysical chair of total punishment until they've thoroughly thought about what they've just done. And then the beauty part! Oh the part I always long for more than any other thing.
Because the only way to get off the naughty chair is to apologise, and mean it. Little kids have to actually apologise, and mean it! Which just makes me wonder when we all lost this ability, in between all of our "well, I'm so sorry you feel that way" and "sorry if it hurt your feelings".
There's all of these ifs and wells and clauses to apologies, now, whereas the world of Supernanny exists in a perfect, incredible bubble of SAY SORRY OR SIT THERE FOREVER.
I love it. Makes me want to be a parent. Or at least, it makes me want to be a parent as badass as Supernanny.