The Ass-Munchkin
In 1979, after years of encouraging reproduction, the Chinese government implemented a policy known today as the one-child policy (not to be confused with the "one-China" policy which advocates the reunification of Taiwan with mainland China). The policy has at times been praised as an effective tool for ensuring that China will be able to continue to support its large population and at times reviled as a tool for human rights abuses and female infanticide. The decrease in population growth is a clear indicator that, if anything, the intentions of the policy have been realized. Additionally, there was been another byproduct of the policy that will undoubtedly have a very dramatic impact on the country in the near future:
There are a lot of “only children” out there.
In the United States, the “only child” is often the victim of a societal stigma that labels him or her spoiled, self-centered, and incapable of seeing things contrary to their own thoughts. This stereotype is unfairly tilted toward the negative, as many of us know as many driven, selfless only-children as we do brats.
In China, however, they’re all brats.
As the Chinese are becoming wealthier than ever before, they are instinctively showering their wealth on their only children. It’s not surprising, since the concept of families and bloodlines remains an important part of Chinese culture, and since each family can only have one child, that one child represents all the family’s hopes and dreams. Parents find that they cannot bring themselves to discipline their kids, since it is so much easier just to appease them than punish them.
I encountered this phenomenon about two weeks ago, when I accompanied my family on a casual business lunch with some relatives and another associate. We met at a pretty nice restaurant, one that served delicately decorated dishes of pate, fois gras, and other Western treats.
When the plate of escargot arrived, the kid seated across from me (age 10) grabbed his tongs and started scooping the escargot onto his plate. One after another, until one remained on the dish. On our side of the table, it was Kid 5, Adults 1. As he was hungrily sucking the snails out of the shell, I was thinking about how expensive the dish was, and how the dad must be at minimum slightly incensed at the rudeness of his kid.
He wasn’t. Instead, he said to everyone: “Look at my son’s appetite, this guy could out-eat me!” And with that, he asked his little brat, “Do you want more? I can order more.” I was surprised that the little piglet shook his head. So the father simply picked up the remaining snail and dropped it onto his son’s plate. “Eat up!”
I was horrified. What the fuck was going on here? I wanted to jab my fingers into the kid’s ears, lift him up, and punt him into the next province. I refrained myself, however, because I was actually taught common etiquette, decency, and I figured that eating his food when he wasn’t looking would be a more subtle course of retaliation.
“Where’s my bread?!” he shrieked. He kept looking around for the piece of garlic bread that had moments before sat before him. The same piece that was now sitting quite comfortably in my belly.
“Where’s my bread?” The kid tugged at his dad’s shirt, then grabber his mother’s arm to get her attention. They searched the table for it while their son began berating the waitress, who must have been three times his age. “Where’s my bread?! I’m supposed to have bread, where did it go?!” the little asshole yelled.
In all the commotion, I took a huge forkful of his spaghetti and gulped it down.
I love escargot. That ass-munch.
There are a lot of “only children” out there.
In the United States, the “only child” is often the victim of a societal stigma that labels him or her spoiled, self-centered, and incapable of seeing things contrary to their own thoughts. This stereotype is unfairly tilted toward the negative, as many of us know as many driven, selfless only-children as we do brats.
In China, however, they’re all brats.
As the Chinese are becoming wealthier than ever before, they are instinctively showering their wealth on their only children. It’s not surprising, since the concept of families and bloodlines remains an important part of Chinese culture, and since each family can only have one child, that one child represents all the family’s hopes and dreams. Parents find that they cannot bring themselves to discipline their kids, since it is so much easier just to appease them than punish them.
I encountered this phenomenon about two weeks ago, when I accompanied my family on a casual business lunch with some relatives and another associate. We met at a pretty nice restaurant, one that served delicately decorated dishes of pate, fois gras, and other Western treats.
When the plate of escargot arrived, the kid seated across from me (age 10) grabbed his tongs and started scooping the escargot onto his plate. One after another, until one remained on the dish. On our side of the table, it was Kid 5, Adults 1. As he was hungrily sucking the snails out of the shell, I was thinking about how expensive the dish was, and how the dad must be at minimum slightly incensed at the rudeness of his kid.
He wasn’t. Instead, he said to everyone: “Look at my son’s appetite, this guy could out-eat me!” And with that, he asked his little brat, “Do you want more? I can order more.” I was surprised that the little piglet shook his head. So the father simply picked up the remaining snail and dropped it onto his son’s plate. “Eat up!”
I was horrified. What the fuck was going on here? I wanted to jab my fingers into the kid’s ears, lift him up, and punt him into the next province. I refrained myself, however, because I was actually taught common etiquette, decency, and I figured that eating his food when he wasn’t looking would be a more subtle course of retaliation.
“Where’s my bread?!” he shrieked. He kept looking around for the piece of garlic bread that had moments before sat before him. The same piece that was now sitting quite comfortably in my belly.
“Where’s my bread?” The kid tugged at his dad’s shirt, then grabber his mother’s arm to get her attention. They searched the table for it while their son began berating the waitress, who must have been three times his age. “Where’s my bread?! I’m supposed to have bread, where did it go?!” the little asshole yelled.
In all the commotion, I took a huge forkful of his spaghetti and gulped it down.
I love escargot. That ass-munch.