February 2010

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Watching television with Squirts is never boring—not that the programs he chooses aren’t boring or repetitive or mind-numbing. But Squirts has a way of spicing it up by becoming a part of anything he watches on TV. Shortly after the show begins, he picks a character with whom he identifies—and then becomes.

“Mommy,” he says, “I’m Diego. And you’re that girl. Daddy, you’re Baby Jaguar.” Or, “Daddy, I’m The Incredible Hulk. You’re that guy with knives that come out of his hands.”

I’m not always the strange animal character, but it’s not unusual. In fact, lately, he’s been hogging all of the good characters. “Daddy, I’m Shaggy, Freddy and Scooby. Uh, you’re that ghost.”

As he watches the show, he becomes the character he has chosen. He even talks in first-person throughout his ongoing commentary of the program. It was a little startling at first when he said, “Daddy, you look like you want to hit me,” or when he asked, “Why are my feet so big?”

It took a couple of flustered promises that I had no desire to hit him before I realized he was talking about “my” character looking angry. And I’m not sure I was really any help when I assured him that, yes, he does have large feet, but I’m sure other kids wouldn’t notice.

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In the four years since Squirts was born, we’ve had a few scary moments (at least they were scary in the eyes of these two first-time parents):

  • As a newborn, Squirts spent his first few days of life lying in a bilirubin blanket because he was born jaundice. “Blanket” sounds nice and cozy. It was more like a mini-tanning bed/straight jacket combination that gave off this eerie blue glow day and night.
  • Eleven months later found Squirts in the Gulfport emergency room with an I.V. rehydrating his little body after a long, high fever. Of course, he didn’t seem worried because his mommy was laying in the bed right next to him with her own I.V. being treated for pneumonia.
  • Then there was the time he flew off a spinning office chair and landed face-first on a toy truck. The screams were loud and the cuts were messy. But both passed. The vision of him flying from the chair as I continued to spin it may never leave my memory.

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We have been talking about love around here the past few weeks. We have been trying to help Squirts differentiate what in life is worthy of his love and what might deserve other levels of appreciation.

When he announced how much he LOVED the remote control monster truck Santa brought him, I must admit I swelled with a little pride that his mom and I had been so in-tune to his Christmas desires. Of course, the fact that he made it clear in no uncertain terms that he wanted Santa to bring a monster truck made it pretty easy.

But, we took that opportunity to tell him that love was something he should think about saving for people and that, probably, he really liked his truck a whole lot.

When he said he LOVED the World Wrestling action figures on the television commercial and that he had to have those to play with, I also swelled with a little pride. But mostly because I resisted my own instinct to jump up, turn the T.V. off and forbid him from ever watching it again if that’s what he was learning from it.
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At our house, we have recently graduated from Diego, Dora and Oswald cartoons to anything featuring a superhero.

Cue the “Hallelujah Chorus!”

I get the value of Diego, Dora and all their little friends for young children. I really do. (Though, don’t get me started on Oswald and his dog “Wienie.” What were they thinking?) When you compare the head pounding, foot stomping, hair pulling cartoons of my day to the problem solving, environmentally aware, multi-cultural cartoons of today, there really is no comparison in the educational value.

Entertainment value is a whole different thing.  After a couple of episode of Dora, I’m the one doing the head pounding, foot stomping and hair pulling.
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