What's a Kookaburra?

When George and I were dating, we spent a lot of time contemplating the meaningful topics of life. But "To Be or Not to Be?" has become a pre-baby question. These days, even the adult conversations begin with a juvenile concern:

Where did Donald Duck leave his pants?

Who's in the kitchen with Dinah?

How do you spell paw-paw?

What did the monkey do to the weasel to make him that mad?

Is Goofy a dog?

Would you rather eat green eggs and ham with a mouse or a goat?

Who exactly were Davie Crockett, John Henry and Paul Bunyon?

Why doesn't Cookie Monster have a nose?

What's the recipe for blackbirds baked in a pie?

Does Mickey Mouse wear gloves as a formality or is he always cold?

How did Raffi become our children's answer to The Beatles?

You'd be surprised how long George and I can milk one of these topics for entertainment. Of course, some of these questions are completely unanswerable, particularly the last one about Raffi's confounding popularity. I did, however, google "Kookaburra" when George asked, "What the hell is a Kookaburra?" For the record, a Kookaburra is a bird from Australia. A fact to be filed under the category of "useless trivia".

We decided she's rather cute, though. We hear she's always up for a good laugh too.

Kookaburra

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Photo Source: BenAveling, Wikipedia Commons

Parental Pet Peeves

Whole new categories of pet peeves grab hold of you, when you're a parent. Take shoes: Why can't they design children's shoes that go on tiny feet without major time and effort and/or struggle with your child? Or zippers; they've become my latest nemesis. How about drivers? I never noticed how many people get behind the wheel and act like they're in the last lap of the Indy 500.

I have a list of complaints about children's music. Buying a CD seems simple enough. I suppose I'm looking for the nursey rhymes I heard as a kid. Yet, take it home, pop it in…Hickory Dickery Dock's done rap style…Old MacDonald plays like a Southern rock song from the 70's, complete with guitar solo in the middle. My personal least favorite is Baa, Baa, Black Sheep done in quarter time with the chanteuse crooning as if she's Whitney Houston. A sheep just isn't that emotional, nor is the song itself.

These classics contain creative license, are full of artistic spin. Do they think they're appealing to parents' tastes or are they just frustrated rock stars sublimating their ambitions by producing children's music? I have a feeling it's the latter. Either way, the songs aren't as remarkable as the singers seem to think.

Genres reinterpreted. Classical music done on a recorder, Jazz-lite. Mozart and Coltraine are rolling over in their graves. Why not listen to the originals? Well, except for the classic Irish music that you maybe want to listen to on St. Patrick's Day (sorry Irish readers).

Then, there are the lyrics that I didn't notice as a child. Three blind mice is just plain sadistic. And Skip to My Lou? Who is Lou? Why are we skipping to her?…him? Who knows.

Forgive me, I clearly spend too much time for my own good listening to this music.

Of course, it's really for my daughter's benefit, and Claire doesn't seem to mind. She's blissfully oblivious to my pet peeves. Although, her favorites are Itsy-Bitsy Spider and Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star -- done as they should be with simple melodies and straightforward lyrics.

Perhaps, my daughter isn't buying the artistic flourish either.


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Twinkle, Twinkle, Hold the Soft Porn

Claire loves music. We have a treasure trove of children's music on iTunes, 311 songs with a playing time of 11 hours. Of course, my daughter just has to hear a song that doesn't exist in this collection today.

I'm undeterred. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star can't be too hard to get online, I figure. I find it quickly on a children's music site online. I find something unexpected also.

As Twinkle, Twinkle plays on my laptop, a picture flashes on the screen. A woman mugs at the camera with pouty lips. She's stands with her back arched and chest out. A skin-tight mini-dress shows half of an immense cleavage and barely covers an ample behind that's pushed into the air, as if to suggest an offering. She pulls at the bottom of the dress around her crotch to keep the thin, stretchy fabric from bunching up in front and revealing even more unsavory bits.

So many questions go through my head at once. What are they advertising? Why on earth would they think that someone coming to a children's music site would click on that picture? Why would I want my daughter to see this representation of femininity? How in the world do you shelter your children from these things? And, if you can't, how do you explain their existence?

We used to sneak looks at National Geographic, when we were little. Girlie magazines were hidden away in drawers. The good ol' days. Now, we have the internet. 

It's stating the obvious that I want my daughter to grow up with a healthy body image,  and a positive attitude about what it means to be a woman. We all want these things for our children. It's clear that it has become a growing challenge to accomplish these goals, when we live in a world overly-saturated with sexed-up advertising imagery and media outlets obsessed with the superficial. We all probably agree. 

My viewpoints aren't on the extreme end of the spectrum either. I believe in freedom of choice. While not my particular cup of tea, an adult has the right to look at this kind of imagery. I should have a choice NOT to look at the picture too. I should be able to have some control over what my daughter sees also. 

We try in our family too. We don't have a television. Our daughter doesn't spend time on the internet. Perhaps, we need to take more extreme measures, like moving off the grid.

It's disheartening. I didn't expect to have to start thinking about these issues, when my daughter is this young. I had hoped I wouldn't have to start facing my feelings of powerlessness about them just yet. 

I am unprepared. I fear that nothing I could possibly say or do is a match for the pervasiveness of objectifying messages about women that our world has to spare. Now, I can add paranoia about my lack of control over when and where they will suddenly pop up. 

I mean, come on, I found an incredibly objectifying and offensive image today on a children's music site, while my daughter and I listen to a nursery rhyme!


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