a club i don't want to join

For all of those folks who love Mickey and all his friends, this post, which is a bit of an anti-Disney rant, is not for you. I don't deny that Disney and its products have brought many people, my kid included, a great deal of joy over the years. But I also can't deny how the influence of the company, especially from a marketing standpoint, is becoming more and more of an overwhelming presence in my child's life. And frankly, I'm sick of it.

We seem to have escaped the Disney Princess syndrome, at least. Of course we have a few dolls —  Pocahontas and Merida, to be exact — but they have to fight with Barbie and a Bratzilla for Harry Potter's attention. My daughter doesn't seem to have been sucked into the "everything princess-y" faze, and for that I'm grateful. It's not that I don't like princesses per se. In fact, I'm a huge fan of myths and fairy tales. It's just that I want the kid to see and read many interpretations. Disney is not canon. To know that the original story from the 1001 Arabian Nights wasn't mostly about Princess Jasmine and who she's going to marry, but about a clever and tricky little rascal named Aladdin. And that there's a whole 'nother version of The Little Mermaid out there that will really rattle her one of these days.

But there must have been something Disney did to stir me up enough to write this post, right? Yes, there was. The chief culprit and the bane of my recent existence is a website called Club Penguin. It's a bit like The Sims for kids, with penguins instead of people. The kid is obsessed with it. The powers-that-be at Disney have married their obsessive marketing towards children with the power of the internet in one nice little insidious package. The kid can join Club Penguin for free, so no harm done, right? Except for the relentless dangling of all the perks — more clothes for your penguin, more puffles (a penguin pet), more, more, more, more stuff that you just have to have — if you can just convince your parents to sign you up for the paid monthly membership.

"Prior to being purchased by Disney, Club Penguin was almost entirely dependent on membership fees to produce a revenue stream. Nevertheless, the vast majority of users (90% according to The Washington Post) chose not to pay, instead taking advantage of the free play on offer. Those who choose to pay do so because full (paid) membership is required to access all of the services, such as the ability to purchase virtual clothes for the penguins and buy decorations for igloos; and because peer pressure has created a "caste system" separating paid from unpaid members." — Wikipedia, quoting Robertson, Heather-Jane (2007). "Postman Does Penguins," Phi Delta Kappan

Although the game is designed for kids, any age can sign up and play. This is of course a concern, as being able to chat and interact with other players is open to all, whether you pay or not. It's supposed to be safe, but ...

There is also a series of Club Penguin books that contain keys to various gifts in the game, which encourage the kid to want to get more stuff while playing. More, more more. The cult of more. She is always checking those out at the library, although I doubt whether she reads them, but instead scans them for clues. She can also collect coins in the game to help "pay" for more stuff.

I never said the puffles weren't cute - they are

Apparently just being a penguin with a puffle in a virtual winter environment is not enough. Some of her friends play Club Penguin, which is fun for her. But she has also made many other virtual "friends" who she may sometimes have fun with, but who also occasionally hurt her feelings by what they say or how they act. All normal kid stuff, right? Except instead of having virtual arguments or wishing that her penguin is as tricked out as some of her friends, she might be outside playing in the sunshine or reading a book, or so many other things. I'd rather she had a real argument with a kid on the playground than be ticked off because someone was rude to her outside her virtual igloo.

I monitor the time she spends playing the game, and I want her to have shared experiences with her friends, but I am concerned and frustrated that like so many other Disney-associated products, there always seems to be the inevitable dollar sign attached. I'm just hoping that like other things, she will soon grow out of, or bored with Club Penguin and move on to something else. Hopefully something that doesn't have a never-ending price tag. I currently am disappointing her by having to constantly reiterate why I won't be signing up my credit card to deduct a monthly fee to Disney. It's one way for her to learn the value of money, by my not spending it unnecessarily, on something I don't entirely approve of.

i miss babar

I love being able to talk and share more and more with the kid every day as she grows. But I didn't realize how much things had changed until the other day when I noticed how cartoons had been replaced in her TV time with Disney kid comedies. Old favorites like Babar and Curious George are no more. I can't believe it, but I even miss Caillou. Instead, there are wizards who hang out at a Waverly Place nothing like the one I remember, as well as many other shows featuring assorted tweens full of wisecracks and on the loose. Sigh. Oh well, everything changes. But I can't help but miss some of the gentler shows she used to watch.

overheard at the playground

"Let's play Hide and Seek. Count to 29!"

"If my brother lived to be one hundred and ninety nine he'd be dead right now."

"I have a dog that lives with my grandmother, but I don't live with my grandmother. And she bites."

I'm assuming (hoping) that the kid was talking about the dog, not his grandma ...

seven

The kid is seven.

Lucky number.

Lucky kid.

Lucky day.

Lucky me.

let's do the time warp again (again)

Children's television is interesting. Cartoons still rule, but there is a ton of variety for today's media-savvy and -saturated child. When I was little, I remember my brother and I creeping downstairs and turning the T.V. volume on low to watch Saturday morning cartoons, with Speed Racer and other Japanese animation, Mighty Mouse, Bugs Bunny, Popeye, and Felix the Cat as top favorites. I've loaded the iPad with lots of Popeye and Felix cartoons, which are available via the Internet Archive for a similar purpose—getting me a little more me time on A Sunday morning.

Cartoons were something you waited for—a weekend treat. There was the occasional after-school kid programming too, like Batman and Underdog, but many afternoons dad got home early and then we had to switch the channel to—yuck—the news (booorrriiinnggg!) When we got a bit older, we also watched "family" programs in syndication that we might have missed first-run, like Lost in Space or The Brady Bunch.


I actually bought the Lost in Space DVDs for my daughter. Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. The shows are a bit of fun nostalgia, and I got a kick out of her asking to see "Mish, Mish!" when she was a toddler. Translation: the appeal of the antics of Dr. Zachary Smith is apparently still strong. Or genetic.

Now kids don't have to wait until the weekend or after school for kiddie-fare, as these shows are available on 24-hour cable channels, run by commercial stations, or even PBS.  Not so sure that's a good thing, but that's how things are. My daughter has discovered Tom and Jerry, a cartoon I never really watched or liked when I was a kid, but do enjoy watching with her now. And of course there is my beloved Flintstones, along with the whole Hanna Barbera canon. And no child's education is ever complete without the benefit of Bugs Bunny.


It has been interesting to me that she is "discovering" so many cartoon characters from my childhood, as well as cartoons like the Smurfs and Snorks and kid shows like Teletubbies and Barney that were first seen by kids who are now in college. I don't necessarily want to hang out and watch with her as much when she opts for Barney, but as much as that show has been slammed by adults, I find it less obnoxious than Dora the Explorer. Barney may be beyond corny, but at least the show is gentle and soothing. I appreciate the snippets of Spanish that Dora may (or may not) be passing along to her young viewers, but what is with all the yelling? The show is shrill, at too high a pitch, and quickly goes from annoying to unwatchable for me. That goes for you too, Diego.

As much as children's programming is decried (and there is a lot of crap out there, without a doubt), I have been pleasantly surprised by quite a lot of the modern offerings. Some of our favorites correspond to great children's books: Angelina Ballerina is a funny and beautifully drawn program about a young mouse who is also an aspiring ballerina. Max and Ruby captures the collage-style of Rosemary Wells's original illustrations and the humor of the brother and sister bunnies. Little Bear is as charming as the classic Maurice Sendak stories. Babar manages to keep the spirit of the de Brunhoff books while sending Babar on further adventures. Rupert is a new discovery for us, but has wonderful fairy-tale-like stories and great animation, and Franklin is cute and fun to watch. Also good are Make Way for Noddy, Dragon Tales and in moderation, the inimitable Spongebob Squarepants. I have to admit a fondness for the 90s animated Batman, and the Avatar series, which we also watch, now that she's beyond toddler age

As she gets older she more and more wants to watch programs that feature actual kids. For a while, that meant the syndicated re-runs of 80s/90s Full House, fueled by cute Uncle Jesse and the twins. Lately, it's been the Disney channel. The Disney Channel has been brilliant in exploiting this childlike desire to watch other kids. My daughter especially likes the boys in The Suite Life. I have relented and let her watch these shows, but after a bunch in a row (followed by The Wizards of Waverly Place—yeah, right, that's a realistic downtown New York) and other equally inane sitcoms), I am starting to consider a moratorium. Apart from the broad slapstick and surprising amount of bodily function humor (I'm not grossed out by fart jokes, just surprised to find them on Disney), what I really can't stomach is the endless Disney-product shilling: for more unfunny comedies, DVDS, etc., etc. It's not like any of these shows actually tell a story. It's just mindless fluff. Oh well. I guess it's this generation's Brady Bunch. But my dad didn't let us watch that show endlessly. Moderation's the key, here, I think.


I grew up with T.V. and would never be one of those folks who "just watch PBS." I am just too fond of pop culture. I don't want television to substitute for reading or playing outside for my child, but there is no real danger of that. I admit that "Saturday morning T.V." buys me some time in bed on a weekend morning so that I can get a little extra relaxing time, much like my parents got to sleep in while we watched Speed Racer all those years ago. I find it funny, and I guess, a little bit reassuring, that a lot of the same characters, like the Pink Panther or Yogi Bear or Top Cat might be amusing my little one as I put off getting up and starting my weekend day—for just a little while, until the inevitable "Mooooooom ..."

Updated, reworked, re-written, from Associated Content ...

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honey, let me tell you ...

Honey, let me tell you.
I love my cat.
My mom does too.
I really love my cat
Really really love my cat.

chill out

 Watching the lions

Today was the hottest day yet this year, forecast at 94 degrees and it felt like 100+. A perfect day for the zoo, right? Well, not exactly. Extreme heat and seventeen children create a certain special brand of mayhem—not even counting the other scads of tourists. The Thursday before Memorial Day may have had something to do with it too. But besides all of that we managed to have a great time. The iPhone doesn't have a blur feature (or if it does, I'm not using it), it was just so darn hot some of my photos were muggy.



Orangutan on the move

One of the most oft-heard phrases uttered by parents (besides me for once) today was, "Chill out." Wow, it's considered an intransitive verb, c. 1980. Not only did this phrase express the frustration of the herding of our little cats, but the actual weather conditions. Luckily, there were strategically placed water misters to at least help with the latter.

"mommy . . . will you laugh at me if I tell you this?"

"I don't know, tell me."

"It's kind of embarrassing (giggles)."

I wait, patiently.

"I think, Arthur . . . [from Shrek the Third] is cute"

"Well, he is cute. I don't think that's funny."

She giggles some more.

"He's cute, but you also realize he's a drawing."

"Yes, I just think he's cute."

The state of six, circa 2010.

If this conversation seems silly to you (and it is) it is also a wonderful and welcome relief from "Owwww . . . my tummy hurts" and the thousand variations on that theme. Anyone who knows me knows how much I hate to be sick but that is nothing compared to how much I hate the sound of my daughter in pain and knowing there is nothing I can really do about it but ride it out with her.

So bring it on, kid.

"What do you think about Prince Charming?"

"He a prince who's not good-looking."

There you have it.

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day in fast-forward

Today was my "day off," which means that I got up, made breakfast, got the kid to school and me to acupuncture, drove to Target and ran errands, came home, fixed lunch and surfed the web, took a nap (whoo hoo!), woke up, drove downtown to pick up the kid from school, who seems to be coming down with something, put in four loads of laundry, let the kid watch Spongebob . . . after I get the laundry and fold it, put most of it away, maybe take a bath? we'll see . . .

stage fright

Yesterday was the kindergarten school play. I was more worried about it than excited, as the kid has exhibited extreme stage fright in the past. I wouldn't say I had low expectations—honestly if she decided to sit it out it would have been O.K. by me, but I didn't want to entertain any expectations. I just wanted her to know that I was there, and I love her, and she needn't be afraid.

It turns out any fears that I may have been harboring evaporated, as the kid said all her lines on cue, had a great time on stage, and a great time offstage watching her friends do their plays. She'll never know how proud (and relieved) she made me when her jitters earlier in the week turned out to be for naught.

Complete non-sequiter: Hitchcock's walk-on in Stage Fright. I love Hitch.


<

get your motor runnin' . . .

tea and sympathy

Sometimes all a mom can do for their child is make sympathetic noises. I can't make the tummy ache go away, but I can bundle her on the couch and rub her tummy and forehead.

I can sit through a Zac Efron movie (yes, people it really does start this early) and suppress a smile as she cries when cute Zac turns back into Chandler from Friends. Actually, I'm right there with her on that one.



I can let her watch Kung Fu Panda for the umpteenth time while I drink tea and smile and hurt inwardly until she is running around and driving me crazy once more.

Only then will I finally relax and embrace what passes for routine around here.

story time

We have added something new to our bedtime ritual. Now, as I am tucking her in, my daughter asks me if I would like her to tell me a story.

It's unbelievably cute, and actually quite interesting to hear her renditions of Hot Fox Soup or The Three Little Pigs and just the other night, The Little Red Hen.

I can hardly wait to hear what she comes up with tonight. She promised to make up a story, next . . .

i . . . feel . . . faint

Apparently my daughter has been amusing her friends at school lately by feigning fainting. I saw her amusing herself (and me) by doing it (complete with "woe is me" wrist applied to her forehead) while we watched a movie last night, during a crucial scene when the hero and heroine kissed. I asked her where she had been seeing all this fainting, to practice her technique—from what movie? At first she couldn't remember, and then she said it was when Dorothy saw the witch. I don't remember Judy Garland fainting in The Wizard of Oz . I do remember her falling to her bed after being hit with a window frame during the tornado scene. But regardless, whether the scene happened, how she remembers it or how I do, it is leading to some honing of an almost six-year-old's dramatic skills.

mommy . . . do you know what this means?

ROCK AND ROLL!!!

Bless the child.

happy halloween

We watched some of the Munsters marathon - time to introduce the kid to the classics. I think Herman may have influenced her drawings.

"It's dark out."


'You like my drawing? I'll make a copy, only different."

I like that she's already thinking about working in a series...

the tooth fairy's gonna think we don't like her...

My daughter lost her second tooth last weekend—she is really looking like a Little Rascal now.

The tooth was wobbly in the afternoon, and after dinner I noticed that her gap had widened. But no sign of the tooth...

Oh well, luckily the tooth fairy still delivered a quarter.

The Awful Tooth (1938)

cats and dogs

Henry

Hershey

tooth fairy time

"I lost my tooth, Mommy! It fell out and I swallowed it with my pizza. It's funny." - Note forwarded from her teacher.

Time to introduce the tooth fairy.

And I was worried about her first day of kindergarten...

"that's what grown-ups do...

...they sleep and sing and eat. And work for their babies and have babies. That's all they do."

All this said while perfecting the dance-along choreography to Meryl Streep in Mamma Mia. I'm finding it hard to argue the point.

Mamma mia, here I go again
My my, how can I resist you?