Page 32 of Child of Mine

“But we don’t have commercial breaks like the network shows,” James says. “That’s when people usually change channels.”

“Nickelodeon has ads now too,” Tim, the youngest of the APs, notes.

“We do have station IDs and promos, though,” Keeley says.

“You think we really have to keep dangling a shiny object to hold a child’s attention?” Carol asks, her tone making it clear how she feels. “That just seems counterintuitive to creating a meaningful experience.”

“I’m not talking about gimmicks,” Henry says with barely concealed impatience. “I’m talking about stakes. Something to get the viewers invested.”

“Like a game show or something?” Tim asks, perking up.

“More of a competition,” I offer. “Or goals to reach.”

“That’d be cool,” Keeley says. “Like they could go up against each other to complete challenges, like in a video game.”

“And what if they lose? We kick them off the show? I don’t like that at all,” Carol says.

“The Boomerangs have already been cast,” James says. “They’ve signed on for a show like the original.”

“What if they have to work together?” Henry says.

“Like they have to achieve something together,” I add, “whether it’s taking a physical risk or learning something new.”

“And then teaching the others?” Laura asks.

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Tim says.

“We could also use competition to highlight individual strengths,” I argue. “It would give them a chance to experience how everyone has something to contribute in a collaboration.”

“Oh, oh.” Tim raises his hand like Horshack onWelcome Back, Kotter. “And they could earn, like, points or something. Or rewards.”

“Like in a video game,” Keeley points out again.

Carol looks like she’s going to explode at the repetition of that particular phrase, so I add, “I bet we can find the positives in the video game format while leaving the negatives behind.” Holding up a stack of letters, I play our trump card. “It’s clear we don’t have enough usable viewer suggestions to fill a season.”

Carol raises a brow at James, who nods with a grimace.

“Henry and I came up with a potential new structure for the show.” I pass around copies. “The suggestions become goals the kids have to reach before they can move on as a group. Whether that’s performing a skit or cooking a recipe, like on the originalBoom—”

Henry holds up the list I gave him earlier. “Or learning how to use a telescope or training a dog to roll over or running for political office or even flying an airplane.”

Before anyone can object to that, I jump in. “Many of these suggestions invite taping outside the studio and involve people in the community. Since Boston is really one big college town, I’m sure we can find willing experts on practically anything.

“Each episode ends with the kids back in the studio, where the points are tallied based on what they learned and achieved. The judge determines whether or not they can move on to the next level.” I hold up a hand. “Either way, we see them all again the next week.”

“But who is this judge?” James asks. “It can’t be an adult.”

“What if it was another kind of authority figure, like an animal? Like Mr. Ed?” Henry asks.

Interesting.We have a proposal for this, but maybe he wants to get more buy-in from the others by making them feel a part of the idea generation.

“A horse in the studio?” James scoffs.

“I do know a woman who’s an animal trainer,” I say, thinking of Lucy Minola. “She did an amazing job with the dog that was in a Shakespeare Boston production last year.”

“Who could train an animal to look like it’s talking”—James taps his watch—“in a couple weeks?”

“Well, what about a puppet?” Henry asks.

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