Kelsey, on the computer, choosing which game to play on pbs.org: “Mommy, I’m not crazy about Caillou. I think he makes bad choices.”

It’s been one of those shows I’ve tried to keep my kids from viewing because it has a high mommy-pulling-her-hair-out potential. Same with the insidious purple beast that I shan’t name here. I don’t like my kids to watch shows that make me nuts. Caillou is, to my mind, a spoiled little kid who has tantrums when he doesn’t get what he wants. His parents are sickeningly rational. Caillou is a brat. And that voice makes me want to throw large heavy things at the television.
I’m the same way with certain toys. My kids both know that I don’t like Barbie. I’m not going to tell them THEY can’t play with Barbie, and I believe Santa is bringing them their first Barbie this year, as they requested one. But my kids are going to know WHY I don’t think playing with a grown-up girl doll with unrealistic proportions who doesn’t do anything except dress in trendy clothes is fun. I hope my tastes rub off on my kids. I know this can backfire.

I don’t put much stock in Disney Princess products either, and for the same reason. How many brain cells am I killing in my girl children by giving them toys that tell them they should be well-made-up, perfectly coiffed princesses waiting around for their princes? I mean, let’s be realistic about our culture here. Let’s see… where do you think the unrealistic expectations regarding marriage begin in our culture? But I digress. I always get in such a dither when I get on this subject.
So screw you, Caillou. My kid is on to you.

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