Talking to your child about clowns
Children were put on this earth to make adults feel old, and that’s the scariest thing about them … well, that and their snot production.
For starters, they tire us out because their energy level is equal to that of a honey badger hopped up on Red Bull. Second, they have an innocence and joy about them that we used to have before life had its way with us. And finally, they give us those horrifying moments that make us realize we have entered adulthood and there’s no turning back.
That moment came when my stepdaughter shared with me her anxiety about marauding clowns.
Yes, we’ve all heard the news stories, seen the reports, studied the statistic, weighed the options, shucked the corn and shivered the timbers. We know there are people dressing up as clowns and walking the streets at night and freaking everybody out.
The moment I told her those clowns are just some losers in makeup trying to scare people, I realized I turned into every adult I’ve ever seen from every horror movie where kids are trying to warn people in the town that danger is afoot — a large, floppy one in this case — and the adults totally dismiss their fears.
I knew I might as well be saying, “Michael Myers is just something parents made to keep their kids in line” or “Freddy Krueger is just an urban legend” or “that Norman Bates wouldn’t hurt a fly” or like my parents said to me, “Star Wars isn’t real, you’re not a Jedi, you’re 28 years old and need to get a job.”
I also started to wonder if I was completely wrong like all those adults in the movies, that a clown was going to come up to the house and do us all in. Then I’d look like a real idiot-to be murdered and have less worldly awareness than a 6-year old, and to have both done at the hands of a circus performer.
And like the kids in those movies, my kid decided to ignore my ignorance because she heard from a friend at school that the clowns are going door to door, and the parents are giving them money to kidnap their children.
Hearing that scenario, I started to wonder why that story painted more of an unflattering light on the parents than the clowns, but who am I to judge?
However, I started to wonder if there was help out there like a pamphlet that reads, “How to Talk to Your Children About Clowns” or “Clowns: The Funny No Laughing Matter.”
I would have to sit the kid down and say, “Okay, this is a picture of Bozo the Clown: Good. Here’s a picture of Pennywise from Stephen King’s ‘IT’: Bad. Here’s a picture of Ronald McDonald: Diabetic.”
No matter what I say, though, my stepdaughter always has questions that totally throw me off guard.
“How do they become clowns, daddy?”
“Uh…clown college or perhaps an online course, I think.”
“Nooooo!,” she whined. “Do they bite people and people turn into clowns?”
“Oh, you’re thinking of zombies and vampires, so those would be zombie-clown-vampires, and those certainly aren’t real.”
“Are they coming to our house?”
“No. There’s no such thing.”
“If they’re at our house, I’ll beat them with a baseball bat in their head!”
“That’s messed up,” I said. “You are one disturbed little girl.”
“I know!” she said with a laugh.