Picking Through the M&Ms

About Van Halen and my little boy's nonsensical and non-negotiable demands.

My little boy, 3, wanted milk. But he didn’t just want milk, he wanted me - not his mother or his sister anyone else - to get him the milk. But he didn’t want me to just get him milk, he wanted me to bring it in a specific cup. But he didn’t just want me to take the cup and fill it with milk, he wanted to hand me the cup first.

This brand of madness began when he was two. And to keep the conversation in verbal, non-screaming territory, I have to pick my way through his labyrinthine demands.

On my way to the kitchen to get the cup for him to give to me, I was muttering about Caligula’s court and Van Halen’s M&Ms.

As a kid, I was a huge Van Halen (in the David Lee Roth period) fan. And one famous story that their touring contract specified that there be a bowl of M&Ms in the dressing room. But all the brown M&Ms had to be removed. At the time, it was emblematic of rock and roll excess. Just imagine the spoiled, megalomaniacal creatures who would not only demand such a thing, but insist on it, in writing, with a threat to cancel the show if the venue didn’t play along.

Obstinate, time-consuming and seemingly capricious - you can see why the M&M clause reminded me of my little boy.

Method in the madness

Now, I’m a reasonable guy. Every day, I put on my khakis and do all kinds of things I’d really rather not. But I love my boy, and I also love Van Halen (in the David Lee Roth period).

But why can only mommy peel the banana, or only daddy get the toy from behind the couch?

I asked David Lee Roth, via google. And behind the story of the brown M&Ms is the story of a massive tour, with a tractor trailer full of lights, equipment and pyrotechnics pulling into strange venues night after night. The no-brown-M&M clause buried in the contract, among stipulations about voltage capacities and fire safety measures, was a quick way to see if the stadiums and concert halls were abiding by all the other terms. And given the stage show Van Halen put on, their safety depended on the venue following the contract to the letter.

The bowl of M&Ms with no brown ones was a sign that the venue was listening, and was competent enough to take care of the band. I like to think that I’m listening to my children, and competent enough to take care of them. But my boy may have a point in double checking.

Unreasonable demands abound

There are few things in life as demoralizing as complying with a senseless demand, be whether it’s made by a self-interested, soulless, lying institution or the person you love most in the world. Now, quick: Am I talking about being a middle-aged dad, or being a kid in school?

To a child, how reasonable is it to give up their pacifier or to poop in a potty? How reasonable is a raincoat or homework assignments?

And then there’s being really little: Imagine your butt hurts, but you don’t know it’s your butt and you don’t know if it will ever end and the pain has already taken up a frightening portion of your life. Things get out of control really quickly. And maybe you would ask for extra reassurance when your caregiver least expected it.

“I want reassurances”

This phrase pops up in films about heists or hostage situations.

But the impulse to demand reassurance is everywhere, once you start think about it. What else are wealth and fame, but exaggerated reassurances? What else are LIKE, SUBSCRIBE and SHARE but reassurances?

The comfort often provided by reading and writing, is that they act as sanity checks across time and space - desperate, irrational and highly particular demands that we not be deemed so crazy that we’re excluded from the protections that others seem to enjoy.

Everyone is either a baby, or they were a baby, as my seven-year-old told me last night. And as adults, we remain in many ways at each other’s mercy. Like it or not, we are each other’s caregivers. But we have to seek reassurance in small ways, so as not to scare those we’re seeking the reassurances from. Hence the contracts, the khakis, the greetings and salutations, the literature, the music and the tantrums.

I hope you do

The seeking and awarding of reassurance - along with its occasional, devastating refusal - can get rather baroque. But the crux of it shows through in another possibly apocryphal rock and roll anecdote.

Leonard Cohen and Phil Spector were collaborating Death of a Ladies’ Man. At one point in their collaboration, Spector (later convicted of murder) put a gun to the singer’s neck, and said “I love you,” to which the Cohen replied “I hope you do.”