Nothing happened.
Then, as I was playing with my son Nathan earlier this week, a song appeared on the television in the other room loud enough for him to hear. Most of the time, he ignores the TV because he's too involved in trying to torment the dog, gain entrance into the DVD cabinet or banging his Fisher-Price plastic wrench on the closet door in an attempt to tell us that we need to get the vacuum cleaner out so he can try to plug it in the wall.
But this time was different. The song on the TV stopped him in his tracks. He turned around, practically running into the family room to catch a glimpse of what was on the TV. To my surprise, the song was eerily familiar. Where have I heard this before? As I turned the corner, my jaw hit the floor. The character that I swore years ago would never be apart of the life of any future child of mine was brain washing my dear son with his goofy, cheesy, jolly, sing-songy garbage.
You guessed it: BARNEY!
And guess what. Later on that day, Sesame Street was on and that freak Elmo made an appearance dancing around in all his effeminate glory. And sure enough, my son was glued to his every move. What the hell was going on?
Forget Cookie Monster or Grover or Snuffelupagus (incidentally, his first name is Aloysius), Elmo and Barney have lewered my son into the deep, dark, girly, puppet abyss with no way out. As a resul of my stunning discovery, my pool of blogging subject matter has been reduced to this: BARNEY AND ELMO.
Honestly, I have nothing else to add but this: I can't wait for the day when my son snaps out of his hypnotic trance induced by Barney and Elmo. Maybe by then, he will understand that Elmo and Barney are nothing but evil red and purple, furry freaks whose sole purpose in their fictional lives is to torment parents. How I long for that day.
