At our local Fred Meyer, the place on earth I spend the most time besides my own bedroom, there’s a check-out aisle labeled “Family Friendly.” Before I had kids I avoided it. It seemed creepy. Just what made it family friendly? Mickey Mouse tap dancing down the conveyor belt, Jesus scanning your groceries, maybe a clown handing out balloons? I preferred to take child-free groceries to a more sinful cashier–one that might be handing out condoms or Jell-O shots.
Now that I have two girls I decided to wheel my cumbersome race cart into “Family Friendly” territory. I was just curious. What was different? Only one thing. The “Family Friendly” checkout offers no magazines. No People, no Star, no Teen People, no O, no National Enquirer. That’s it. Apparently, in Fred Meyer’s world magazines are an affront to the Family.
Candy, on the other hand, is as “Family Friendly” as the maternity leave policies of Scandinavian countries. There’s everything from the traditional peanut butter cup to the plastic baby bottles with lollipop nipples filled with dyed powdered sugar. The candy is placed low, the baby bottles are at toddler eye height, and the display is situated so that a parent’s back is to it while the debit card is being swiped.
I’m confused. The magazines are the same magazines lying around waiting rooms. They don’t hurt kids. Yes, they’re gossipy rags. Granted, a recent cover featuring anonymous bikini-bottomed butts of various celebrities and entreating the reader to match the cellulite to the star was tacky, but my toddler is nonplussed by butts. Among the recently potty trained set using the bathroom is a communal event.
Trashy magazines don’t disturb me. Right now my kids can’t read, and once they can, we’ll talk about what they see. The headlines could lead to teachable moments. Ten years from now I might say “Look girls, Angelina Jolie’s new baby is from Lichtenstein. When we get home I’ll show you on a map.”
The impact candy has does disturb me. In our house we cannot speak of candy. It’s among the words that must be spelled, like i-c-e c-r-e-a-m or a-s-s-h-o-l-e. Candy is toddler crack. In a country with an obesity problem, putting the it down low is the equivalent of handing out meth on the playground.
Fred Meyer knows kids will whine. They know stuffing their mouths with candy shuts them up. To them, our children are as good as the PIN numbers to our debit cards. In the “Family Friendly” check-out reading is bad and candy is good. Nutrition, dental hygiene, fiscal responsibility? It seems that to Fred Meyer, they’re like magazines–family unfriendly.
Other parents I’ve talked to about this are equally annoyed. So let’s do something. Tell Fred Meyer. Use this online form to ask them to remove the candy and replace it with things parents might need: teething gel, sippy cups, wipes, spoons, bibs, notebooks, pencils and school supplies. If they’re not willing to do that, they should at least take down the sign. Sarcasm doesn’t go over well at the check-out.
While you’re sending Fred Meyer your feedback about the candy be sure to compliment them on their canvas bag policy. Even I will admit that a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.
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