Children Of The Corny
This morning, Elijah decided that he wanted to watch Little Einsteins as his breakfast entertainment. For those of you not familiar with this abomination of God, Little Einsteins is the toddler offshot of Julie Aigner Clark's fraudelent series of "educational" Baby Einstein videos. The Little Einsteins are four ethnically mixed kids with eerily large eyes. They travel around the world on "missions" in a magical rocketship called Rocket, to a classical-music soundtrack. However, the music is made slightly less classical by the Little Einstein's insistence on putting lyrics where none were ever meant to tread. Eine Kleine Nachtmusik becomes "I love balloons, I love I love balloons..."
Oh, it's making me sick even thinking about the Little Einsteins. My disdain for this program is well-known around this house, to the point where, when Elijah wants to tease me, he says stuff like, "You know what I love more than anything, Daddy? Little Einsteins!" But I know he doesn't mean it, and I admire his willingness to give me shit.
Once of the most dumbass things the Little Einsteins do is to pat their laps to get Rocket to take off. While they do this, they say "pat pat pat pat..." and encourage the kids out there to "help" them. Amazingly, they always succeed!
After the show, Regina was in Elijah's room, getting him dressed. I stood in the doorway in my underwear and began tapping my package.
"Pat, pat pat pat," I said.
"Nice," Regina said.
"Peenie Einsteins!" said Elijah.
Regina and I looked at each other with the pride that only those who've spawned a comedic genius can feel.
"Little Peenies!" said the boy.
"That's probably more accurate," I said.
Elijah raised his arms and said, loudly, "HA HA HA HA HA!" Clearly, this was a moment of triumph for him. We needed to bring him back down.
"That's a pretty funny joke, Elijah," Regina said. "But you can't tell it at school or you'll get in trouble."
"It's our private family joke," he said.
"That's right," I said.
At least until now.
The New Face Of Evil
Comments
It's nice when your kids can't read and you don't have to worry about humiliating them even a little bit. My nine year old caught me blogging about him one evening and he looked so hurt and wounded.
Posted by: Tim Elhajj | June 19, 2007 9:23 PM
I don't know, hands on my lap have helped me "take-off." You see where I'm going here.
You can use that shit.
Posted by: Whit | June 19, 2007 11:20 PM
This is great! Kids do believe in such stupid $hit. As if patting could actually help start up the rocket ship.
When my 5 year old was watching Peter Pan and they say to clap for tinker bell I grabbed his hands and wouldn't let him. He cried because he thought Tinkerbell was going to die, but it was worth it. I don't want to let my kid have any childish disillusions about "magic"
I say, good for you Tim.
Posted by: Oscar | July 30, 2007 12:38 PM