Wednesday, 11 November 2009 08:00
Opinion
I'm not a morning person, but my 1-year-old is. But then again so is his mother, which fortunately means I don't have to abruptly rouse myself out of bed as soon as I hear "da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da-da-da-da-da" coming out of the baby monitor perched atop the window on my side of the bed at 6:30am.
At some point a little person appears beside me. My bed, his booster seat, and I slowly drift towards consciousness. My morning haze isn't crowded with thoughts about what the day will bring - not the mountain of work I have to do, the numerous errands I have to run, nor the never-ending list of emails I should force myself to return. Instead, I find myself silently rapping about some guy named Murray and his little lamb, while visions of a purple puppet and two noodles dance around on my eyelids. "It's November, right?" I ask myself, puzzled by why I find myself talking to someone about Cinco de Mayo parade decorations.
I finally come to, look up at the bright TV screen and then over to my son whose eyes are fixated on it. In that waking moment I find myself glad that, like children 40 years before him, someone has shown my son how to get to Sesame Street.
Has "Sesame Street" done great things for diversity? Sound off in comments.
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