If you have ever had the song "Elmo's World" stuck in your head for three days, when you haven't heard it in a week, you may appreciate this.
Evelyn loves Sesame Street, Veggie Tales, and a variety of other kid's shows. Barney and Friends plays in my house like a broken record that just won't stop. This is the private parts of parenting Hades I have become trapped in.
Despite my grandest efforts to get my daughter interested in the most kid-friendly episodes of Batman Beyond, the Superman animated series, the old Star Wars: Droids cartoon, and even some old Justice League episodes, the only thing that truly phases the child is a muppet. If SuperGrover is the thing that can keep her pacified, fine.
She'll stop everything she's doing when Elmo comes on the t.v. If Junior Asparagus sings a song, she wiggles to the tune. If Cookie Monster starts eating, her eyes glaze over and she wishes she could join that blue fuzzball and partake in his chocolate chip gluttony as well. If a man dressed as a bat glides drives across the screen in his souped up car, its back to getting into things she ought not touch.
I would feel ashamed, but personally I just blame the master of muppetry, Jim Henson. If he hadn't done his job so well, maybe she'd be interested in super powered justice. Instead, rather than phoning it in, he made an awesome show I am not afraid to admit that I enjoyed throughout most of my childhood as well - and still secretly enjoy watching with Evie, as well.
But that dinosaur...
I've started watching Barney with her, too. To the point I dissect the episodes. For instance, this one where Baby-Bop (yeah, that's her name) spins around a room and makes a huge mess for the janitor to clean up; potentially making him late for his big break as a concert pianist. The kids get stuck cleaning it up and singing little songs and all pretend Baby-Bop did nothing that bad.
For example: these dinosaurs are the hallucinations of these children. So who really made that mess? The janitor is happy even though his dreams are about to be shattered, and again, he can see these hallucinations, too. This all leads me to think, perhaps, there's something horrible in that school's cafeteria food and the place needs to be shut down. Immediately.
Also, how come the little red headed kid can't do anything right? He's a bad flute player and his science project beans don't grow as fast as the other kids' beans, either. Thanks, PBS. Thank you for sending the message to my daughter that we redheads are born failures.
Again, I blame Henson. Had he not opened the gate with Sesame Street, I'd not even have this blog to write. Thanks Jim. Thanks a whole lot.
