And then Pop Culture Arrived

I was, to be fair, aware of the toddler phenomenon that often sweeps, unabated, through people’s homes. 

But then, these are usually homes where parents happily plant the seed, encouraging, urging, and cheering their tots to take such an interest, as unnerving and unsettling as it might be. 

I’m talking, of course, about Elmo.

With apologies to Jane Austen, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a young tot in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a Sesame Street character obsession. 

In modern speak, kid loves Elmo. 

It certainly didn’t spring from us. We make Margot watch these super lame educational videos featuring zero licensed characters. 

It was all Delmore the Dancing Donkey and other D-List children’s celebrities doing the entertaining at our house, mainly because those videos feature the only children’s songs Ian and I can tolerate. 

I caught a whiff of what was to come one evening when Margot’s daycare report exclaimed that Margot “watched an Elmo video!” I felt an involuntary shiver run down my spine reading those words, but I shrugged it off.

Because some things you just can’t control. Drugs, alcohol, and Elmo are all going to be offered to your child at some point. You just have to have faith that you’re doing your best as a parent, and that your child will find her way through the winding road of youthful temptations. 

A little D.A.R.E. and a little Delmore can go a long way to combating these temptations. Except, they didn’t. 

Ian next caught wind of the dangerous rumblings. Every morning while he and Margot played, he swore he heard her say the name, “Elmo.”  

Soon afterwards, Margot spotted a tiny plastic Elmo toy at my Mom’s house and flipped out. My mother ran upstairs and grabbed a larger stuffed Elmo. 

Maybe it was the logic behind forcing a child to smoke an entire carton of cigarettes after catching him sneaking his first puff of the poison sticks. That’s all I can figure.

Because after Margot met stuffed Elmo, it was all over. Margot scurried down the rabbit hole of Elmo obsession and we’ve been lodged in it ever since. She now toddles around the house calling, “Elmo! Elmo!”

Stuffed Elmo has a prized spot next to Boo, although Boo still reigns supreme as top dog of the stuffed animals. We also allow her a little Elmo screen time now. 

It’s the Elmo screen time that I find most unnerving because I look into his bulging eyes and can only see the demonic come –hither looks of Miley Cyrus or the Jonas Brothers or whoever will take hold of the prepubescent population in 2023. 

When we’re not watching Elmo, I continue to live in my idealized world where Margot will never succumb to trendy muck, instead choosing to build forts, ride bikes, and read classic literature every day. 

Now leave me alone and get out of my delusion; it’s safe and warm in here.