Is There a Third Person in the Room?

Rest your feet awhile in a Barnes and Noble children’s section and grab a listen; you will hear mothers (and a few corrupted fathers) making frequent and unseemly use of the third person.

“Come to mommy!” they instruct.

“Daddy feels frustrated!” they inform.

Just like baby boomers beget blog-writing gen-xers; these millennial moms and dads are adding their stain to the literary drape. With self-defacing solidarity, they are dumping the words “I”, “me” and “my” from every sentence; and in so doing they are training their babes to avoid the third person with post-traumatic attention to detail. You mark mommy’s words: in twenty years, wee Michaela and Max will dump the third person and stick with numbers one and two!

Of course, the possibility of a literary coup is tangential to the psychological ramifications of constant exposure to babble. A child who is repeatedly misdirected to an imaginary third person is likely to be confused and frustrated by her parent’s feeble grasp on reality:

“Look at mommy!” says Cindy Schwartz (35) to poor Shana Schwartz (4) who searches the empty space next to her mother, desperately trying to see “mommy”.

“What does mommy have in her hand?” asks Cindy Pern (32) of dear Bobby Pern (3) who would like to respond, “I have no idea what ‘mommy’ has in her hand, but you have an effin red ball.”

Thankfully, most kids invent coping mechanisms within two minutes of realizing that mom’s lost her mind.

If your child stands two feet to your right and stares into mid-space when you say “come to mommy” it’s because he doesn’t actually know who “mommy” is. His enabling skills have developed far past your ability to identify the subject of a sentence. He thinks you have an imaginary friend and is playing along with the farce.

Go see for yourself! Every Tim, Darth and Larry at the Kinder-Roll accepts that mom has a fantasy sidekick who makes demands and wants him all the time. Dad has a sidekick too, but he only appears when “daddy feels powerless”. Out of pity, Jane allows the “mommy charade” to continue, all the while wondering why dad is so worried about her imaginary friend.

Improper third personage takes its chunk of the blame for failed familial communication. Simple questions like, “What do you want for lunch? Turn into: “Tell mommy what Chrissie wants mommy to make her for lunch”. Mommy should expect no less than a tantrum after a thick inquiry like that!

Or, far, far worse:

“Mommy would really like daddy to bring over a bib. Wouldn’t that be great if daddy would think of someone else for one second and bring over a bib?” To which daddy replies, “Daddy would really like mommy to nag in the first person!” as he walks out the door.

Incidentally, have you ever heard a child refer to himself in the third person? Neither has the author. Case closed.

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