When our weekly trips to the children’s library began, it didn’t take long for Little Boy to become very interested in the DVD rack. To keep him entirely focused on books (he gets enough digital stimulation!), I explained we couldn’t bring home any DVDs because they cost money to borrow. This wasn’t a lie, but Mommy ignorance: DVDs cost $1 to borrow at our old library and, since it’s the same system, I assumed it was the same policy. But then some time ago I noticed a French-language instructional DVD for kids, and when I took it to the checkout desk it turned out DVDs were free to borrow. So I now allow Little Boy to pick two movies a week (in addition to the stack of 20+ books that he rips through like pancakes).
Though thrilled with the DVDs, Little Boy is finding out a life truth: there are an infinite number of good books in this world, but a finite number of good movies. He now combs the DVD rack and rejects every offering, either because he’s already seen it or it doesn’t look appealing. So, because life is too short to spend watching a four-year old study 200 DVD covers, I make selections for him. This has caused disagreements at the library, but when we come home and watch the DVD he’s usually happy. Like, for some reason he didn’t want to borrow Aladdin and was furious with me for checking it out, but of course he loved it and was furious at me when we had to take it back. (It’s like I’m playing a game that I can never win.)
I think he has begun to trust my choices, but last Thursday he was vehemently opposed to the Mister Roger’s Neighborhood DVD I sneaked into the stack. For one thing, there were no cartoon characters on the cover. I pointed to the puppets, but he was adamant: “This is not for little kids!”
“Oh, it is,” I insisted. “When I was a little girl, I watched Mister Rogers all the time! I loved it! Come on, we’ll watch it together!”
“No…” he whined. “You’re going to watch it by yourself!” He was mad that I would waste his allotted TV time with Mister Rogers rather than, say, Garfield.
“Okay!” I said brightly, slipping in the DVD and sitting on the rug in front of the television. Little Boy busied himself with a toy, but the moment the twinkly music started up, he was beside me, mouth open.
He loved Mister Rogers. It was amazing. Or, maybe it’s not amazing. Maybe it’s something all kids instinctively love, even ones who are used to a more fast-paced media diet.
And even more amazing (or, again, not amazing), when the show was over and I said it was time to go to bed, he didn’t protest. He didn’t run around and insist it wasn’t time for bed, didn’t try to hide under the dining room table, didn’t fight me when we went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He complacently went along with me, very sweet and obliging. Unless he’s completely dead tired, which is usually only on the weekends, this never happens. He was under a Mister Rogers spell.
And, me too. Watching Mister Rogers was a good and timely reminder of how I should be talking to Little Boy with sincerity, warmth, and calmness, even when I’m tending to routine matters akin to putting on my shoes and feeding the fish. I’m so bogged down with work, school, 100K race training, and household chores that I forget to remind Little Boy just how special and wonderful he truly is. Mister Rogers taught me a lot when I was little, and now he’s teaching me again.
