Survival Skills

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So last night, the Goose spent her first night in her big-girl bed (as referenced in a previous post, which I could link to, but that sounds like work. It was much easier to give this parenthetical explanation as to why I didn’t hyperlink). 

She slept great!

The Missus and I did not. 

For the Missus, I think it was anxiety. The Goose was ever so slightly more chatty than usual (meaning she talked a couple times). For me, it started out as indigestion. For some reason, despite past experience, I have a deep-seeded (seated?) belief that maybe this time, eating an entire pint of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream won’t have me paying the piper at 2:30am. I’ve been awake since then.

But survival — I have to give mad props to the Missus this morning. The Great Blizzard of ’14 is coming today, which means we’ll get blanketed with less snow than was forecast in the snowpocalypse. The Missus felt industrious at 4:45am and decided to go shopping for eggs, milk, and avocados. You know, avocados. For survival sushi. 

This morning, the Goose is watching the Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood episode about Thank You Day and making a Love Cake. (See how I hyperlinked there?) On the subject of survival skills, there are things every parent wishes their child didn’t love. Mine is Daniel Tiger. I could gripe ad nauseum, but I think it’s sufficient to say that it’s sweet enough to give me diabetes and overstimulating enough to give me a stroke. It’s also repetitive enough to induce seizures. 

AND YET. The Goose loves that little tiger. And as I’ve discussed with friends, the show does teach good lessons on how to treat people, the importance of love, how to regulate emotions, and even how to avoid developing chronic constipation. Healthy things. So to survive, I have to remind myself that there are worse things she could learn, and worse shows she could watch. 

Caillou, for example.

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6 thoughts on “Survival Skills

  1. Pingback: The Adventures of Children’s Television | Keeping Up With the Goose

  2. Having seen Caillou a handful of times while babysitting the now 4-year-old niece in Florida, I have to agree. MAN that kid’s a whiner

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