Oh, I’ll never watch Barney. That dumb ass purple freak. Won’t do it.
My motivation should have been for better reasons. My logic–he sings off key, he is a scary dancer. The problem is that all of those things appear to make children want to climb right up into the t.v. and sing along with the “I love you” song.
This morning I turned on TV and couldn’t quite turn the channel in time from PBS before The Boy noticed the Big Purple Loon. He then sat beside me riveted for the next 17 minutes. 17 whole minutes that I used to kite checks and float money in between accounts feeling grateful that if the federal government is the one required to catch me, I can live like this forever. With a little luck, I won’t have to do it once 5:00 pm and closing happens. But back to Barney.
The last time The Boy was this attentive to tv was during the John Roberts confirmation hearings. I started to get a little worried because it appears that The Boy was so enthralled that he had even stopped breathing. I leaned down in front of his little mouth and nose to find that he was in fact breathing. Except now he was pissed off because I broke his line of vision with the Great Purple God. He shoved me out of the way rather meanly, if I don’t say so myself.
Three minutes later I waved a hand in front of his face.
Nothing. He didn’t even blink.
Holy Moses. When someone figures out what kind of subliminal messages Barney is sending to toddlers let me know. Unless it’s “kill your parents in their sleep.” Then I don’t want to know. Looking forward to 30 minutes of silence tomorrow.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Yet again.