One thing that parents can always bond over is irritation over children’s programming on television. For my wife and I, the primary focus of our irritation is the cartoon adaptation of Curious George in all of its incarnations, but we each hate it for different reasons.
My wife hates it because of the stupidity of the Man in the Yellow Hat. “What did you think would happen, idiot! You left a monkey alone in your house! You trusted a monkey to deliver a package!”
I hate it because it uses lazy storytelling. My rage boils every time the voice-over narration kicks in to describe what George is obviously thinking, only to have the same damn thing repeated by one of the other characters. It’s ridiculous.
Of course, our daughter loves it, which in the end, negates each of these concerns. It doesn’t stop us from rolling our eyes each time it comes on PBS, but that’s as far as it goes. After all, it could be worse; she could be watching Dora the Explorer, Caillou, or Neverland Pirates.
Let's talk about regrets, shall we?
They tend to haunt us through the years. Sometimes they are the things we wish we had said (or could be unsaid), and sometimes they are bigger than that, a path you didn't take, or one you abandoned only a few steps along the way. It's the second type I'd like to focus on today, and I'd like to start with one of mine.