We watch a lot of children’s programming. And by “a lot,” I mean a lot. When you have a baby, no one tells you that in addition to sacrificing relaxed meals out, using the bathroom alone and getting out the door in 30 seconds, you will also be giving up your television.
Want to watch “This is Us” with a glass of red in a dim, peaceful living room? Or catch up on the morning news will sipping your first cup o’ joe? Forget it. Like: just get that image out of your head now — for a few years, at least.
For us, Oliver rotates between a steady diet of “The Muppets,” “Sesame Street” and “Mr. Peabody and Sherman.” PC (pre-children), I didn’t know “Mr. Peabody and Sherman” even existed . . . and as the story involves time travel and encounters with famous historical figures, let’s just say I’ve also learned quite a few things about history myself.
Watching a movie 1,376 times will do that to you.
Every now and then, however, kids’ shows really come through for you. The lessons we learned as children can sometimes get lost in the shuffle of daily life: advice to love others, be kind, do unto them as you would have done unto you. Be neighborly. Be compassionate. Extend a hand.
It’s been a long week. Regardless of your political leanings, I think it’s fair to say this presidential election has been exhausting for all of us. Waiting for the returns on Tuesday night, I nodded off for an hour and woke to the news that Donald Trump was close to clinching victory. For president. Of the United States of America.
I’ve been grappling with feelings of sadness and anger and confusion all week. I barely slept on Wednesday, and hardly at all on Thursday. But today is Saturday. The sun is shining. Spencer and I just learned that our second child is a girl — we’re going to have a daughter, and Ollie will have a little sister.
We owe it to them and ourselves to push forward, stand tall and reach out to one another. No one and nothing can make us hate one another — not unless we allow those seeds of hostility and hatred to plant and grow between us. I don’t walk around in a state of suspicion and judgment, and I want to believe my neighbors do not, either.
Not in our America. And it is ours — all of ours.
Spencer and I will be raising our daughter to walk alongside her brother. We will be there to nudge her forward when she feels weak, and to remind her that a chair always waits for her at the table.
Ollie and I watch “Sesame Street” videos when I’m trying to write and he wants nothing more than to paw at my laptop. As I was trying to answer emails this morning, our background video with Bruno Mars kicked on.
Sometimes the universe delivers just what you need . . . in the form of talking monsters.
I won’t question it. I’ll just embrace it, lace up my sneakers and get going.