From the Green Room: Kate Plus 8, Plus a lot of Therapy
Tuesday, June 8, 2010 
America breathed a collective sigh of relief with news that Kate Gosselin is back on TLC. After the tease of seeing her on Dancing with the Stars, 185 pounds lighter after shedding her creepy husband Jon, she has finally returned to the show that made her a household name. Renamed “Kate Plus Eight,” the first episode of the new season features the world’s perkiest single mom bringing her behemoth brood to Discovery Cove in Orlando. But, as you secretly hoped, what starts out as a fun family vacation quite rapidly degenerates into a outburst of bitterness, jealousy, and, thank God, angry violence.
The sextuplets are seen swimming with dolphins, one of the main attractions at Discovery Cove, but for some unexplained reason, the older children, twins Maddy and Cara, are not part of the fun. They proceed to go into full on pout mode, as the little ones “always get to do all the fun stuff!”
As every parent of young children knows, when in doubt, never underestimate the value of buying love. Kate attempts to right this wrong by getting a piñata exclusively for the amusement of the older siblings. 
The candy-filled papier mache vessel of sweets is in the shape of a smiling sun, not the donkey that is the traditional form of the Mexican party favor. But “El Sol” actually works better, because once the two little hellions get those sticks in their hands, viewers quickly realize that the piñata is a substitute for their mother’s head. The sun might as well have a hideous blonde hairdo on it, because you know that with every violent whack against the hanging ornament, the girls are envisioning Kate’s face.
They never speak the words, but you can almost see the thought balloons over their heads saying “I hate you Mommy! You’re the reason Daddy doesn’t love us anymore! I wish you’d never been artificially inseminated!” The only thing sweeter than this spontaneous paroxysm of unrestrained detestation is that the twins receive a buttload of candy for their vitriolic venting. Nothing better to stick down the gullet of a hopped up young’un than handfuls of white sugar. Bedtime that night must’ve been positively dreamy.
More disturbing than this scenario was the reunion of the eight little spawns of Satan with their camera crew, who, if the kids’ reactions were any indication, must be the closest thing they have to a non-dysfunctional family. Instead of appearing positively adorable as was obviously intended, their delighted squeals come off as rather sad.
When your child prefers the company of a tattooed, middle-aged teamster to you, it’s a pretty safe bet that you’re not exactly Mother of the Year.
