Where There’s A Bear In There… is Spike.

Posted on August 27th, 2008 by Spike.
Categories: one year old.



There’s a bear in there,
And a chair as well.
People with games,
And stories to tell… well, story time ain’t his favourite. Story time will actually get him off his dainty freckle and moving for the remote. But every other single “paste, paste, paste” and “Can you jump too?” filled second, he remains glued – eyes front, dummy in gob, smirk on face.

What a lucky generation he belongs to. PlaySchool is on tap. Recorded on the DVR/TiVo available 24/7, copied to DVD and available on tap at Nana and Papa’s house, not to mention the ones that are popped on Mumma’s iPhone. Yeah, that last one’s a doooozy! Bless you Steven Jobs. heh!

In my day… well, PlaySchool was on Mon-Fri at 3pm and if you missed it, you missed it! How did mother’s of the 70’s 80’s survive? I’m guessing Mrs Jobs was a nightmare in crinoline. How else could you explain it?

There’s so much crap on tv for the kids to be sucked in by. Bucket loads. So, we’re SO glad our little ratbag is casting a discerning eye. PlaySchool is the only thing he will stop for. The only thing that can hold his attention for the full 26 minutes. Nothing else cuts the mustard. Only PlaySchool.

Not that I have anything per se, against The Wiggles or Sesame Street. (If I have to choose, it will be Sesame Street.) But either seems innocuous enough. Not like the dander-raising virulent hate I have for High Five, Raggs The Dog (I don’t get it, his dog friend is in a wheelchair – wouldn’t they have just cut his leg off?) Dora the Explorer, Thomas the Tanked Engine or Jimmy BumFluff in Lycra Sing Moronically At You for 30 Minutes - no, if the kid had leanings towards any of that crap we would have listed him on eBay now with a low starting price. Yes, that stuff is retarded and treats kids like sugar fuelled morons (ok, so they know their audience) … It’s just the pox-filled over commercialisation of all the above that makes me want to punch shop assistants and maim the small children who whine full tilt, “Nooo Mummy, the Wiggles Cheese!” Ok, a BIG punch for Mummy too because really woman, if you give in to that shit, you’ve made your own bed. You can’t go a-n-y-w-h-e-r-e without being force fed a Wiggle Cup and Razor or a Dora The Explorer I’m Lost Kit Or Thomas The Tank Engine Ear Medicine.

PlaySchool doesn’t play that way, Jeeves. If they need something to play with, they make it! You don’t have a PlaySchool Mobile Phone you have a Juice Box, a straw and 5 yards of sticky tape. There is no Patent pending PlaySchool Fire Truck, there’s a VCR box stacked on a Kellogs box, beside a new toaster box from next door, four fruit cup lids and a clip on bike light. Paint that lot red, stick Big Ted in the ‘drivers seat’ and voila! You’re fighting fires with ironically combustible equipment! Wanna go fishing? Get out your blue crepe paper, bunches of marine coloured wool and cut out some paper plate fish – the next thing you know, you’re Jacques Cousteau.

We started making our own baby clothes when A) we couldn’t find any cute baby clothes that weren’t pink ‘n precious or blue ‘n bullshit. And B) when we couldn’t find ANTYHING UNBRANDED!!!! Going to buy this kid a pair of shoes, pj’s, t.shirt, life saving vest is like an exercise in futility. I can get one with Elmo on it. Or Charlee from High Five. Even nappies are branded! “Billy-Bob can only shit in Blue’s Clues.”

So gawd bless the ABC (not something I often say) and all who sail in ‘er. Thank you for PlaySchool. THANK YOU for Simon Burke on PlaySchool. Ah, the days Simon is on it’s a little something for Spike, and a little something for Mumma. Hmmm, Twinkle Twinkle would make SO much more sense if he sang it with his shirt off…

Note to self, call ABC with winning suggestion. Again.

Spike’s Mum xxoo

3 comments.