Don't Take This Personal, Elmo, but Would You Kindly Die?

4 years ago

Remember awhile back when I tried to speak with sagacity about Wee Cee’s lack of interest in Elmo? And remember how you seasoned parents kindly held your tongue in the comments and refrained from telling me, “Oh, you just wait, girly. Elmo fixation is a thing and it’s going to ruin your life just like it ruined ours”?

I remember too. Those were simpler, less-stabby days indeed. Days when I could live in peace without the constant idiocies of Mr. Noodle and his bevy of fellow imbeciles serving as white noise to my life.

I feel so horrible for hating you both so much. Source

I feel horrible for hating you both so much. Source

All traces of Cee’s former indifference towards that little red monster have been obliterated. It’s like she knew I wrote that post boasting of her preference for Mr. Rogers over Elmo and is now holding it over me by chanting her word for Elmo – “La La” – 674,367,843,658,347,289 times a day in an effort to get me to just chain the TV to her head and let her watch him all day long. My brains are literally oozing out of my ears because she is so fixated on that God-forsaken Muppet.

It makes me feel like such a wretched jerk for hating Elmo as much as I do. He is just a little red guy who has an eensy-weensie voice, and he’s just so nice to those little babies who come on Elmo’s World. And my kid loves him! Shouldn’t I take solace in seeing my kid happy, no matter the cost?

Well, let’s talk a second about that kid.

While I wanted to devote a whole post to discussing Cee’s expanding vocabulary, now is as good a time as any to mention that she has gotten really verbose. I think I’m supposed to know exactly how many words she has acquired at this point; everyone seems to calculate their kids’ words into an algorithm that then tells them with accuracy which college they will be attending and the latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates of their retirement community, but I really have no clue. Maybe twenty? Or maybe ten? I fail. The point is that when she wants something, now she tells us rather than just waiting around until it happens. And since she’s also in the delightful I WANT IT NOW NO I MEAN NOW, SLAVE WOMAN phase of her life, she whines LALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA (stay with me here) LALALALALALALALALALALALALA eleventy billion times until she wears me down and I show her the Elmo video.

And I am losing my mind. Losingmymindlosingmymindlosingmymind.

I effing hate that I am writing an “Elmo is the spawn of Satan” post because wow, I mean, no parent in the history of parenthood has ever disliked Elmo. How freaking novel of me. So goodbye, I’m off to hate on Caillou and Chuck E. Cheese in Parenting Cliché Land.

***POSTSCRIPT: While writing this post, Cee figured out how to say no. This post is therefore dedicated to my sanity. I’ve loved you, San, but it’s time we parted ways.

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