My sister’s little girl has grown up and grown up girls don’t need Wiggles DVDs, Thomas videos, indeed they don’t need any of that kiddy-type stuff any more. So when a box full of goodies arrived on my lap, I happily sorted though it and kept what appealed to me… For the Little Lion, folks… Geeze, what do you think I am? A mummy who forces her kids to watch Dirt Girl World just to see if Dirt Girl and Scrap Boy are going to confess their feelings for each other or something? Ugh, as if!
Among the salvaged collection is an old video that I just couldn’t pass on, despite having serious doubts as to its entertainment value: “The Tales of Beatrix Potter with the Royal Ballet”. Yep, a whole lot of ballerinas dressed up as pigs and mice and ducks and squirrels, trying very hard to leap gracefully and pirouette without being toppled by their grossly over-sized animal heads. Each segment is separated from the next with eerie silence as the audience is forced to watch a girl (presumably Beatrix Potter) as she reads a (very obviously blank-paged) book, or eat soup, or watch a clock ticking… Creepy stuff on the whole.
So you can imagine my dismay when the Little Lion discovered this video (which I had carefully stashed in the furthest reaches of the cupboard lest I be caught out actually having this strange piece in my collection) and demanded that he “Watch mousey now!” When I tried to convince him that Dirt Girl was a much better option he was adamant, “NO! LL watch proggy now, LL watch girl now, LL watch mousey now!”
In no mood for an argument, I put it on and walked away fully expecting cries of dismay from the lounge room at any moment. But they never came. He was transfixed. And he has requested that bizarre collection of prancing animals every day since.
Now, I’m not a big fan of sitting LL in front of the TV. He’s got waaaaaay too much energy to burn and I’m damned if I’m going to let him store it all up for bed time, but as we all do on occasions, I LOVE the television when I just need him to go away and not speak to me for a bit. You know, those times when you need to get the baby to sleep, or when you need to go to the toilet in peace because you haven’t had a relaxed and satisfying expulsion in a few days and you fear you will kill the next person who bursts through the bathroom door demanding to know what you are doing, and whether they can wipe your backside for you, preeeeese. So, on goes the classical music and silent goes the toddler. Magic.
And then this morning, after taking his nappy off to do a post-poo pretend-poo in his potty, LL put his shorts back on himself – this means he put both legs through the one hole so that he appeared to be wearing a skin-tight mini with a matching saddle bag on his hip. Unfortunately, in order to be able to walk, the mini had to be pulled up just high enough for his crown jewels to peek out under the hem. This circus-print mini was teamed with a workman’s blue singlet and I couldn’t help but smile when he strode into the kitchen, full of self-satisfaction.
The little picture of manliness demanded, “Mummy, sing! Sing RA-RAA-RAAAAA berry big! LL be mousey.” And he struck a pose in readiness for the music to begin. As I uttered the first notes of a disastrous attempt at dramatic orchestral music, he launched into a dance like no other. He swayed and pirouetted and lept like Billy Elliot himself. When he gracefully placed his hands on his hips and began tapping an Irish jig, it was all I could do to keep the music coming, tears streaming down my cheeks and Blossom looking on with the wide eyes of somebody utterly perplexed.
For ten minutes I was treated to the most enthralling, circus-mini-clad, penis-jiggling, hand-flicking, saddle-bag bouncing, wobbly-spinning ballet dance ever to be performed in a kitchen.
The self-applause when LL took a graceful bow was thunderous and I am still chuckling at the thought of the triumph in his face – Beatrix would be so proud…
So who says TV is all bad?