If your children are of a certain age, mid-elementary school seems about right, you probably already know about Fred.

In fact, you may have learned about Fred in much the same way I did. I was walking past the computer where my two children were glued to YouTube, mesmerized by something on the screen. I heard it before I saw it, although it's hard to say which is worse with Fred.

How to describe Fred's voice? It's like someone thought Alvin and the Chipmunks were too pleasant sounding and so bumped up the pitch and speed to levels best heard by dogs. And roughly third- to eighth-graders too.

But to see Fred is truly something else. He's a shaggy-haired teenage boy pretending to be a disturbed 6-year-old named Fred Figglehorn who lives with his grandma while his mom's in rehab and his dad's in jail. He has a crush on Judy and sometimes gets bullied. Despite the somewhat gritty "back story" of this fictional character, it's a mainly innocent collection of videos.

In real life, Fred is Lucas Cruikshank, a 14-year-old from Nebraska with seven brothers and sisters.

Also in real life, he's at the top of the YouTube food chain with such classics as "Fred Loses His Meds" (more than 16 million views), "Fred Goes Swimming" (more than 20 million views) and "Fred Stalks Judy" (more than 9 million views). His channel has hundreds of thousands of subscribers. These are the kinds of numbers other virtual stars -- and even real ones -- can only drool about. He's an online sensation, so you know it didn't take Disney long to come calling. Fred appeared on a recent episode of Disney Channel's tween hit, "iCarly."

A neighbor's kid had shown my kids the Fred channel on YouTube and after one short clip, they were hooked and watched all the rest. It wasn't long before my son was imitating the rapid-fire speech and the eye-rolling delivery -- and soon after that my husband and I were begging him to stop.

What made our ears bleed was nonstop hilarity to our kids and the neighbor kids and our friends' kids and just about any kid who gets within the reach of Fred's voice.

I logged on to watch a few of Fred's videos again in preparation for writing this. I got through about half of a few of them and then had to mute my computer while Fred continued to mug for the camera. I mean, I understand that past generations got themselves worked up when their kids listened to the Beatles, but a few years later I bet many of those parents were listening to the Beatles themselves.

Somehow I don't picture Fred ever catching on with anyone over the age of 13, but I suppose stranger things could happen. For example, a 14-year-old nobody from nowhere with a really annoying shtick could be one of the hottest acts on the Internet.

March 6, 2009

Dear Girl Scouts of America:

As a young girl, I greatly enjoyed your organization. As an adult, I think we need to talk. And yes, it's about the cookies.

You might think I am writing this letter to complain about the fact that there are fewer Thin Mints in each sleeve this year and that all the boxes -- and cookie sizes, it seems -- have gotten smaller.

Not so.

I am writing to talk to you about the timing of your cookie deliveries in the Milwaukee area. I don't know if you do this intentionally, but cookie sales start in January, which is a time when we in Milwaukee are all particularly vulnerable. Typically at this point, we have been knee deep into winter for at least six weeks. Life looks and feels as gray as a car crusted in salt and snow splatter.  

Then your cookie order forms arrive and they're all colored with the pastel yellows and greens of spring and it just does something to our addled brains. We grab all the forms we can find, neatly filling in the number of desired boxes in the colored rows and yes, we dream of spring and better days ahead. Like when the cookies will arrive.

And then, weeks later, much like the first buds of spring, the cookies do arrive. Only around here, it isn't spring yet, so the cookies replace the budding flowers. Which we then eat not by the cookie, but by the box.

Might I add that we are also particularly vulnerable at this time? Because now winter's dragged on for several months and it's still gray outside and swimsuit season is at least three months away for us (if we're lucky). So one-two-three-four, whatever, the whole row, of cookies don't seem like such a bad idea right now. We've got time to lose the weight, right?

Then we start acting like it's New Year's Day every day, resolving that today won't be like yesterday. We won't replace two out of three meals with Girl Scout cookies. We won't. Really. Maybe.

Dang it. There are just so many of them and they're everywhere.

Don't mistake my message here. We want to support your mission. You do good things for girls across the nation, and in that, we totally support you.

How about showing the love back by changing our cookie season to early fall? The fall leaves will give your colorful order form a run for its money, and then the cookies themselves would arrive at the beginning of winter and would become just another part of holiday overeating -- all to be completed by January.

Give it some thought. We'd really appreciate it. Thanks!

Sincerely,

Jeanne Wieland
 

Today's a big day around our house because my son turns 10. Neither one of my kids gets all that excited about birthdays, but this time around is different for my son.

The countdown started about two weeks ago, and ever since he's been calculating how many days until he turns 10. Clearly getting into the double digits is very important to him.

What he doesn't know is how much it means to us too.

My son, my second child, had a rough start in life, although he doesn't know this yet. We've never talked with him about the complications surrounding my pregnancy with him, how he came into this world at a really scary time for us as a family and how his first months of life on the outside were as challenging as his last few on the inside. He has no clue.

Does he need to know? Sure, someday. Today's not that day, but someday.

It's a long story full of twists and turns, but I'll summarize. I was about five months pregnant with my son when an ultrasound revealed a softball-sized ovarian cyst that was growing along with my unborn baby. Shortly afterward, when I was about 24 weeks along, I had surgery to remove it, which involved opening up the very area where he was growing.

A painful and scary 10 days in the hospital followed, waiting every day for the contractions to stop so that I'd get the green light to go home. Adding insult to injury, this was during the Clinton impeachment trial, so that's the only thing that was on TV on just about every channel for my entire hospital stay. A minor gripe in the bigger scheme of things, but at the time, it added to my misery.

I eventually got out, went home and resumed life as normal with only a few trips back to the hospital for pre-labor scares.

My son was born on March 10, 1999, just hours after his nearly 3-year-old sister was released from Children's Hospital. She had a febrile seizure that didn't respond properly to medication and required her to stay in the hospital for a few days. While we were there, worrying sick about our first baby, our second baby was on the way. I knew it, but held out as long as I could before heading off to my hospital for his birth.

One child recovering, one just born. To say I was overwhelmed doesn't do it justice. I think I was comatose. I barely remember my time in the hospital with my son because I was so sick with worry over my other one.

What I do remember clearly is the day I realized that my new baby, my boy, had colic. Serious colic. Serious screaming all day, screaming all night colic.

It was understandable; he'd been through a lot in his short life. Moms all around me would talk about how they wouldn't even take an Advil while they were pregnant; I was on morphine for days following the ovarian cyst surgery. What did I expect, a blissful baby?

Well, to be honest, yes. I felt we'd been through enough already and my husband, daughter and I were all already a tangle of exposed nerves. Add constant crying to the mix (and not just that of the new baby, I'm not too proud to say) and we were a puddle on the floor most days.

It took four months after his birth for him to stop screaming and probably another two months after that until we all started breathing again.

What I have today is a 10-year-old boy who made it through, never knowing it all happened and never looking back.

He's funny, a little quirky, very rational for a kid his age, the best gift we ever gave his sister and many, many other things I love and treasure every day.

He's celebrating his 10th birthday today, but the gift, I feel, is all mine.
 

Watch out Milwaukee's naughty boys and girls -- the "Supernanny" crew is headed to town, looking for the best of the worst.

We're big fans of this show at our house for so many reasons. Of course it's a family show you can watch with the kids, but it also opens up the door for discussions about what's appropriate, what isn't and what the consequences should be when kids cross the line.

Aw, who am I kidding? We love to watch the really rotten kids and their often even more rotten parents. If I was the supernanny, I wouldn't last an hour in many of those houses. Yep, it's good stuff.

If you've got a crew that needs whipping into shape by Jo Frost, the supernanny herself, head to the casting call from noon to 4 p.m. Saturday, March 28, at StoneFire Pizza, 5320 S. Moorland Road.

For more info, check out Supernanny.com.  

Consider this blog your new reality TV show connection.

Got a call from MTV last week. They're looking to find Milwaukee-area families with children ages 14 to 24 and turmoil. The specific request was for parents and children who are at odds with one another over any number of things -- relationships, college selections, religion, etc. You get the idea. Producers of the show say the goal is to help the families resolve the issue, whatever it may be, and gain a better understanding of each other by the end of the program.

Selected families will appear in MTV's documentary-style series "True Life", which, if you haven't seen it, is actually pretty darn good reality TV.

If you're interested, e-mail your name, age, location, phone number, a recent photo and an explanation of the issue you are having to parents@mtvnmix.com.

And if you get picked for the show, let us know!
 

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I'm sort of feeling sorry for Jon Gosselin. Last night the finale of season four of TLC's popular "Jon & Kate Plus 8" aired, and it brings to light the sad side of reality TV.

All week long TLC pumped the final episode by hinting to viewers that there would be a juicy ending that might indicate trouble in the Gosselins' marriage, which, if you follow the rag mags, is not a surprise. Jon's been photographed hanging out with college girls and other shenanigans for awhile now, but it's never been addressed on the show.

In the final five minutes last night, the parents of the now-famous twins and sextuplets talked about whether or not they'll be back for a fifth season. And in some ways, that five minutes seemed more real than all the hours and hours of shows that came before it.

Jon said very clearly that he's struggling with the fact that he is not Jon Gosselin. He is "Jon & Kate Plus 8." And he isn't sure he wants to keep that going.

Kate, for her part, said she loves their life right now and wants the show to keep going into the fifth season.

She also made the point -- a valid one -- that the family has been living in the public eye for so long now that it doesn't matter if Jon wants it all to go away. It's too late. With or without a fifth season, the trials and tribulations of the Gosselins and their children will be followed in the media, at least for awhile.

And if something scandalous happens, it will still be in the tabloids. In other words, good luck telling the roller coaster that it should stop in the middle of the hill. Celebrity doesn't work that way.

The time to think about what it means to make your family into prime-time TV is before you actually sign on the dotted line. I'm sure Jon and Kate did have those conversations, but could they ever have imagined that their show would become what it is?

And how do you attempt to walk away from what your decision has done for you? By standard measures of success, the Gosselins have it all -- a huge new house, cute-as-a-button kids dressed straight out of a GapKids ad, vacations many of us can only dream about and so much more. Kate's had plastic surgery courtesy of her connection to the show, and Jon got free hair plugs.

Reality, this ain't.

And even so, I walked away from the TV last night feeling a little sorry for Jon. His face, his manner and his words all said that he's regretting this deal with the devil -- a deal he and his wife made not just for themselves, but for their eight children who will, like him, move through life as the kids from "Jon & Kate Plus 8."

They'll benefit from that in many ways, I'm sure. They already have.

The unfortunate flip side is that they never had the chance to say they didn't want to do it.

Our daughter was 11 months old when she celebrated her first Easter. I don't remember it well, but I can be certain there was a dress, a family get-together and an Easter basket.

At that age, candy wasn't in it, but I can tell you what was laying in the plastic green grass -- a small brown stuffed Easter bunny with big ears and a ribbon around its neck and a rubber duck. 

Our daughter is 13 now, so you might wonder why I remember so clearly what was in her Easter basket when she wasn't even a year old. I remember because -- and I'm not saying it's right -- the Easter bunny at our house gave her those same two things every year for probably five or six years. And I don't mean new bunnies and new rubber ducks. Nope, I mean the exact same ones.

This is what our Easter bunny did for years and years without the children being any wiser. Every year the basket would contain a few age-appropriate things -- maybe bubbles, sidewalk chalk, a jump rope, new crayons, candy. It also would include the stuffed bunny and the rubber duck, which were convenient basket fillers that somehow disappeared every year like clockwork right around May 1, only to return again next year, happy and chipper in the basket.

I remember when we hit about year six and I was sure the deal was up. One of these times she was going to point out that she was getting the same dang stuffed rabbit every single year or at least that it looked familiar.

Never happened. I don't know if she never truly figured it out, or if she was just being polite. Who knows?

Around year seven, our Easter bunny just couldn't do it anymore and besides, the two standards seemed a little babyish. It was time to move on.

They remain in the bunny's box of tricks, though, ready and waiting to take another stab at it. Maybe this is the year?
 

I meant to get around to writing about this today, but noticed Jackie Loohauis-Bennett of the Journal Sentinel beat me to the punch.

If you like saber-toothed tigers, woolly mammoths and ground sloths (and let's be honest, who doesn't), you might want to venture over to the parking lot of Mark Travel, 8907 N. Port Washington Road in Bayside, from 8 to 10 a.m. Thursday, April 2.

Some Wisconsin-made, life-sized statues of prehistoric beasts will be on display there before they head out for an exhibit at the San Diego Zoo.

See the whole story here.