Back in the Neighborhood

When my kids were little, I didn't have a lot of hard and fast rules. In fact, I can think of only two: No playing with sharp knives (dull ones were okay but only after all other forms of entertainment had been tried and rejected) and under no circumstances were they ever allowed to tune in to any episode of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.

Now, before you report me to the House Un-American Activities Committee, I'll try to explain my loathing of a beloved cultural icon by saying I have nothing against Fred Rogers personally. He was from all accounts a wonderfully kind, sensitive man who devoted his life to educating children. For that, I had (and still have) nothing but respect. I just could not stomach the show. The minute I heard that opening song, I would race for the TV to flip the channel before kindly Mr. Rogers got the chance to change into that raggedy red sweater. I disliked everything about that PBS classic from the insipid songs, to the creepy puppets, to the syrupy tone. In our house, it was definitely a case of Sesame Street, yeah. Mr. Rogers, no way.

Ironic, isn't it, that I am now watching a little show called Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood on a regular basis? When I first tuned in, I didn't know that it had any connection with my original nemesis. All I knew was that it was a colorful, animated program that my little grandson loved. And at first, I thought it was cute. Yes, I recognized that annoying "won't you be my neighbor" ditty but I foolishly thought it was just a sweet homage to its creator. Slowly, though, it began to dawn on me. Daniel Tiger was that scraggly puppet brought to animated life. Prince Wednesday, his dad King Friday and that cat that said "meow, meow" in between every sentence weren't just Daniel Tiger's friends, they were those other scruffy puppets that Fred Rogers used to interact with. And then there was that magic trolley (which Daniel and his father have plastered all over their matching pajamas - a visual more frightening than anything I've ever seen on The Walking Dead) which should have been a dead giveaway but like I said, I tried hard to escape watching the show in its original incarnation so it took me longer than it should have to connect the dots.

So, Fred Rogers, you win. The last time I looked, Netflix had sixty-five episodes ready for my grandson's viewing pleasure and I'm pretty sure I'll end up seeing every one of them several times before he gets tired of the show. Oh, well. This Daniel Tiger is a whole lot cuter than the original, although he still insists on opening every episode exactly as his predecessor did by changing into his favorite red sweater (at least Fred Rogers had the decency to wear a pair of pants with his) and comfy shoes while imploring me to be his neighbor.  (As if I would want to live in that podunk town with one street and one form of transportation).

Well, I think you get the idea. I would continue to complain about the unfairness of it all if I didn't feel the urgent need to visit the nearest restroom. And you know what the song says . . .

'If you have to go potty, stop and go right away. Flush and wash and be on your way.'