Yo Gabba Gabba

A friend once told me that the only moments of relief she got in the early days as a mommy were from The Teletubbies. She could put her high-energy son in front of the TV for the duration of the show. She could shower, she could shotgun a beer, she could take a deep, deep breath and get ready to start again. Just kidding about the beer. 

The AAP be damned, I searched for that show and, when I found it, I put the babe's little papasan chair right in front of the TV and...

...nothing. 

Her inner Al Bundy was still in the closet.

I tried other shows. She was vastly uninterested. What kind of a mother tries to entice her child to sit in front of a TV and rot her blossoming mind (especially with something so creepy)? A very tired one. I just wanted one show. One hour. Thirty minutes even! In thirty minutes I could make and eat a sandwich with both hands. I could shower and blow-dry my hair. I could power-nap. Just to use the bathroom alone would be nirvana. The babe dodged all of my best efforts. And now I understood why parents bought Barney videos.

By chance, a show happened to us. I never thought she and I could both be entertained by the same program. I just don't dream that big. Yo Gabba Gabba is that show and it isn't just for kids. I have seen a live performance from Cornelius, a lullaby by Red House Painters, and a Tony Hawk skate demo. Because of YGG, I have even been introduced to new bands like The Salteens. 

The babe is overcome with happiness the moment the host's big, hairy, orange hat appears on screen. 

       

She lights up like this when she sees me...her father...and DJ Lance Rock.