OK, I normally loathe David Brooks with every inch of my being. But this is pretty funny, in a cliched, stereotyping David-Brooksian sort of way.
Can we stop hearing about downtown parents who dress their babies in black skull slippers, Punky Monkey T-shirts and camo toddler ponchos until the little ones end up looking like sad-parody club clones of mom and dad? Can we finally stop reading about the musical Antoinettes who would get the vapors if their tykes were caught listening to Disney tunes, and who instead force-feed Brian Eno, Radiohead and Sufjan Stevens into their little babies’ iPods?
Not this mom. No Radiohead here. No, it's all They Might Be Giants and Manu Chao around here. With maybe a little Tom Waits thrown in for good measure. But she doesn't get her own iPod until she's 5. (maybe a Zune before then, because, well, you know, who cares what happens to a Zune?)
And from the department of P.R. Gone Horribly Wrong, I bring you Exhibit B. It's funny, but maybe not only in the way they intended it to be....
