Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Guilty pleasures, kid-style

Yesterday morning I caught G sidling out of our office with something not-too-subtly hidden behind her back. I inquired as to what it might be, and with a sheepish expression, she showed me an old Barney Christmas video I'd recently dug out for her visiting cousin.

Busted! I thought, suppressing a grin. Aloud, I said, "You can watch Barney if you want to, kiddo. We won't tell anyone."

She went off to the living room, and soon I heard the familiar perky strains of Barney's theme song, to which I quickly realized I still knew all the words. After a few minutes, I walked in to see how she was getting on with her old buddy.

"How is it?" I asked, and she jumped.

"It's okay," she said without taking her eyes off the screen. So I went on about my business, and she continued to watch. Every now and then, she made a disparaging comment about something in the show, as if she wanted to let me know that she was really much too mature for it. She'd just been looking for something to watch and it had happened to be there. She wasn't enjoying it or anything like that. Heavens, no!

She kept up a pretty good pretense until the video ended, and then blew it by immediately rewinding and watching the whole thing again. I always thought the 1-8 recommended age range on the box was a total crock, and that no self-respecting kid over four would be caught dead watching Barney, but there was my bright seven-and-a-half-year-old glued to the big purple bozo, just the way she was when she was a toddler. But then, I suppose we all have our guilty pleasures, or I wouldn't still be watching Labyrinth twice a year. :-)

In other news, our flowers are still hanging in there in the flowerbed, singing "We're not yet dead" to keep their spirits up. I watered them this morning and moved some struggling potted plants into a patch of sun on the patio, and then I brought the laptop out here to enjoy it all while it lasts. The vast expanse of packed dirt is a bit depressing, but at least I've got trees overhead, and I can hear the birds, and smell the roses on the pink rosebush. It could be much worse.

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