Mommy and I think Barney and Friends is a dumb television show, little one.
Granted we have never actually watched the program, but we can just tell.
In an effort to keep the show from ever polluting our television, Mommy has poisoned your mind by making derisive comments about the program whenever possible.
It worked.
When Sesame Street ended this morning and a preview for Barney and Friends came on, you pointed at the television and said, “That purple T-rex is yucky!” and then pretended to spit on the ground. “A-puh! A-puh! A-puh!”
I find myself feeling both exceedingly proud of your taste in television, little one, and a little dirty at the same time.
Sometimes a couch and a couple pillows just aren’t good enough, little one.
Sometimes you require a couple of carefully chosen friends, a strategically placed umbrella, a well worn winter hat and your favorite red chair in order to enjoy Sesame Street.
I fear you are going to be extremely high maintenance, little one.
You’re a big fan of the Three Little Pigs, little one.
Gramps first taught you the story with the help of the Three Little Pigs houses that he gave to you.
Then it was reinforced through repeated viewings of the story on The Wonder Pets.
Lately we have been reading an odd, morally ambiguous but otherwise entertaining version of the story to you in which the wolf appears at the door of the brick house wearing sheepskin.
Now we hear you acting out your own version of the story quite often, with a variety of other animals and little people getting involved from time to time.
You can accurately identify a triceratops, and a poor facsimile at that, little one.
Perhaps that Dinosaur Train show isn’t as stupid as I had thought.
There are beavers on your favorite show, Peep and the Big Wide World.
Apparently they have made an impression on you, little one.
Another peak into your mind, little one, via your little people.
With the ponies and dragons lined up with a precision that would make my Mommy and I a little nervous if you weren’t so incredibly social, and the rest of the people sitting in chairs, you spent about fifteen minutes preparing and feeding them ice cream dinners from your little kitchen.
Most interesting to me is (once again) the position of Super Grover, standing atop a pedestal in front of the throng of plastic people.
Super Grover remains your favorite Sesame Street character, but does this mean that you are conferring some kind of leadership position to him?
Or religious deference?
What level of organizational sophistication is a two-year old capable of?
And why no ice cream for Super Grover?
