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  • Writer's pictureJenny Wynter

Toddlers on Set (or, “Here’s To You, Mrs Olsen”)


Oh how I love it. It sounds just like a fabulously trashy reality talent show, resplendant with on-set tantrums, tiny bodies dealing with the limelight and countless others running themselves ragged trying to meet every reasonable and unreasonable demand of the talent.

You know, so TOTALLY different from every other reality talent show out there.


Wow, what a week it has been.

On set, yo.


a) I absolutely LOVE working on camera – and as it turns out, so does Cassidy. Whaddya know? Show ponyism is apparently genetic.

b) I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to reveal on here about the specifics of what we were working on – let me just say that we were presenting a series of little video snippets for an upcoming website of a major company. Will most certainly link to the real deal once it’s up and running!

c) Catering on set ROCKS. There’s nothing quite like bottomless cappucinos (made FOR you no less) to round out the feeling of being a Z list starlet.

d) They take the “kids on set” thing VERY SERIOUSLY. Did you see how I typed that in all caps? Yes, that’s how seriously. Man oh man. Sometimes I wish I could type my instructions out to my kidlets, purely so I could just press caps lock when I really mean business. Ah me. One of many dreams left unfulfilled.

But yes, they have extremely strict rules about how long a child can be officially on call for while on set – 4 hours at the pint-size, as it turns out – and once bubba’s off, bubba’s off.

e) It’s a tiring business, this show business. While they’re only officially on duty for 4 hours, there’s still the whole night before, trying to make sure they get a good amount of shut eye so that they’ll be in good spirits while on set, then waking them up (if required: in my case, yes) earlier than they want to be woken so that we make our call time, then trying to entertain, feed and otherwise convince them to “stay happy!” for the camera. Ah me.

Mother of Mary Kate and Ashley, I take my hat off to you.

Admittedly, it’s tattered and torn, namely because my son has not yet shown any signs of launching his own television specials, fashion lines and/or eau du toilettes (though if he does my money’s on: “Shades of Brown. For Toddlers.”) and so is not yet a GAFREAKINGZILLIONAIRE. (Yes, caps intended).

Still. Holes and all. Hat off, Madame Olsen.

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