When I Would Actually Prefer To Watch The News

Children’s shows drive me banana sandwiches. Every time we watch one I can feel my soul slowly slipping away, desperately trying to save itself from the hell I have subjected it to. I do my best to direct Noah in picking the least horrible shows but really that’s like trying to pick out the least offensive public bathroom stall. At the beach.  In July. There is no winning that battle and no matter what you are left with a nagging urge to take a scalding shower to wash away the stank. Yes, that is what children’s television shows feel like to me.

There just are no good options in our home. Noah has horrible taste in shows. I love the kid but he really needs to work on that. We watch the same things every time we have our TV time.

Headache 1: Pingu

 I don’t even- I can’t even explain this one. Umm it’s about a penguin named Pingu. He lives with his penguin parents. In a penguin house. Yet he is unlike all the other penguins I have ever encountered in my life. He speaks this weird language which is a blend of French and speaking in tongues. He dances a lot and while dancing he does all kinds of weird contortionist moves that make me uncomfortable. Now you may be reading this and thinking to yourself, “Where did they find such a gem?” Well I will let you in on our joy; this little piece of viewing pleasure is available on Netflix. There is a whopping total of three 45 minute Pingu adventures. I can’t even tell you how many times I have seen each one. Let’s just say that if there were coherent words spoken by anyone in Pingu-land, I would probably recite them in my sleep.

Headache #2: Barney

Oh the flashbacks this obsession has ignited. I used to love Barney. I wanted to be one of those dorky kids in the non-brand specific solid colored clothing going on adventures with Barney. It never seemed weird to me that Barney would take these kids places without notifying any parents or teachers. My parents raised me to not speak to or go anywhere with strangers but if that big old purple bastard came up to me and told me we were going to the farm when I was a child, I would not hesitate. He wouldn’t even had to have bribed me with candy or ask me to help him find his lost puppy. That dinosaur has some sort of weird hold over kids that I never really saw until the first time Noah found an episode on Netflix. He is all into singing and dancing along to every song that comes on. He actually has learned quite a bit from this particular headache and he has so much fun watching it that I put up with it. However I will draw the line if he ever wants to dress like the kids on the show. No overalls or calf length socks on my son, thank you very much.

It could be worse. I could have kids old enough to want to watch Hannah Montana. The thought itself gives me heart burn. I’m doing my darndest to instill a love of reading into my kids so that one day we can all lounge together as a family and read our books together. Stopping every once in a while to share a line that was touching or funny and bonding over how blissfully nerdy we all are. Such a lovely thought shattered by my three-year-olds manic yelling as he shakes his butt in the air and calls to me ever so lovingly, “Hey Mama! Look at my butt!”

A girl can dream though.