The "ummmm..." comes from what is ON the TV.
Picture it: A man jumping around in a too-small orange jumpsuit with an equally disturbing orange afro-hat on his head who sings obnoxious get-stuck-in-your-head songs while dancing with his extremely strange stuffed animal monster/robot/freak friends who magically come to life when he pulls them out of his ultra-fab 80's style boom-box.
No, it's not some weird new form of pornography (at least that I'm aware of).
This is actually a wildly popular children's show on Nick Jr called Yo Gabba Gabba.
Seriously, I don't get it.
When I was little, Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers entertained us through the witching hour while mom fixed dinner and we waited for bedtime.
Sure, Lady Elaine Fairchild might have been a liiiiittttllllleeeee creepy (and possibly a little gender-confused), but she was just a social outcast and gave us kids a healthy idea of what the "stranger we shouldn't talk to" might look like.
We learned real lessons, like the value of cookies when you need a pick-me-up (thanks, Cookie Monster for those extra 20 pounds, by the way - I can see why you play 2nd fiddle to Elmo, what with all the childhood obesity happening these days).
And "Neighbors" were real people you helped and hung out with - not figments of a mushroom trip imagination that became life sized, running around, jumping and singing "I'm sorry".
I thought Caillou was my worst enemy because he was whiney.
As it turns out, my real fear should be of the wildly popular man in the orange afro who shows my children's generation that it's okay to be a spastic loner amphetamine addict.
Maybe I am missing something though.
Love, hugs, and blessings,
The Mama
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