TODDLER TRAINING FOR TRUMP AND KIM
There’s one thing that worries me about leaving Donald Trump and Kim Jong-Un alone together – the lack of an adult in the room, writes Ann Wason Moore. They need someone expert in dealing with toddlers to supervise.
OUR little global village is all growed up. Thanks to the internet, the world is not so much a clash of distinct cultures but more like one big family. One big dysfunctional family.
We put the ‘krash’ into Karkrashians. Every UN meeting, G7 summit and even CHOGM get-together is like Christmas with the Simpsons. Super funny in a sad kind of way and, thanks to Trump, inclusive of orange people.
Every country has its place in the family pecking order. Australia is the epitome of a middle child. A solid B student, we don’t get much wrong – but we never really get noticed. Just like Jan Brady, we’re pretty in our own way but always outshone by the Marcias of the world – looking at you USA and UK. (New Zealand, FYI, is the Brady dog, Tiger.)
But this week our world family gets to witness the epic reunion of two branches of our crazy clan.
Yep, weird Uncle Trump and even weirder Uncle Kim Jong-un are coming to dinner. And you better believe the whole world has got the popcorn popped and is ready to watch.
There’s just one thing that concerns me. (Besides the mutually assured destruction of the entire human race … although compared to another four years of Trump, I know which one I’ll take.)
Guys, I’m really worried about leaving these two alone.
I’m sure they both have plenty of minders (read: hair stylists and spray tanners) but I think they need a true adult in the room: they need a parent negotiator.
Let’s face it, Trump is basically a baby without nappies. And I’m not totally convinced he’s not rocking a pair of absorbent adult pants under those bulky suits.
Meanwhile, from the looks of him, Kim Jong-Un is yet to go through puberty. I’m a little worried about when he does. He is going to be sooo angry about that hair.
I feel you, Kim. My mom gave me a bowl cut in first grade. Everyone thought my name was Man, not Ann. Truly, it’s a wonder I didn’t turn out to be a dictator too.
So anyway, we need someone in that room who has experience with toddlers. Because what we’re facing here is one child, Trump, trying to take away the toys – aka nuclear weapons – of the other child, Kim.
Parents are the ultimate tacticians. They know how to wheedle, plead, beg and punish. They know just which consequences to mete out and when it’s time to overstep boundaries.
World, if we need to cancel Christmas to make this meeting work, we need to follow through.
I realise this is not a job for the faint-hearted. But parents deal with liquids exuded from every orifice on a daily basis. We can stomach anything. And if we can’t, well, gastro ain’t nothing new either.
Still, I’m not looking for volunteers … I’m ready to put my hand up to do duty for my country, for the world, for my global village.
Indeed, I have more than ten years’ experience putting out family fires.
Just this weekend I had to step in after my daughter lashed out at my son because … he hugged her.
It’s true, I don’t know what he was thinking. When I give that wild thing a good night kiss I’m never sure if she’s going to give me a sweet smooch or bite my nose off.
Anyway, my silly son saw she was upset and tried to pat her to soothe her worries. Rookie error!
You do not poke the angry bear.
Fortunately I was able to separate the duelling wildebeests – pinning one to the bed while urging the other to run for his life.
And I’m prepared to similarly put my body on the line for the future safety of our world.
Although I have to admit that if it comes to pinning either world toddler – sorry, leader – to a bed, I’m out.
And while that may mean death for all mankind, I’m pretty sure you all understand. Putting the global family first can only go so far.