Little Bear

Maurice Sendak (Where the Wild Things Are) is a gifted artist. I suppose thats one reason I enjoy the cartoon "Little Bear". The animation is so ... sweet. It seems as if each stopped second of video could be a pen-n-ink drawing, almost an illustration in a book. Its a very vintage style that brings to mind more innocent times.

The plots are non-existant in the very best way, drifting through whimsical flights of fancy and imagination. And the characters are absolutely sublime. Surely you can see yourself as one of the characters. Even my husband, who doesn't enjoy childrens-programming as an art-form, sees himself in the show. At home he's "Cat", while at work he's "LittleBear".

Personally, I've very torn about who I am. Duck or Owl. (Ironic since I hate birds, don't you think?)

I'm tempted to say that I'm Duck because I get incredibly ditzy when sleep-deprived which is almost a chronic state for a mother of young children. But, I'm not as nice as Duck. I'm afraid I might be Owl, who is a complicated mix of serious and silly, of smart and lunacy, of affection and fury. I WANT to be like Duck, but there are those days ... you know the kind. You can tell just by looking at me that I'm thinking nothing good.

Those are the moments the boys look at each other and grab me. No, not to tackle me to the ground and restrain me until help arrives like I'm some ill-fated burglar. They're just determined to hug-pat-kiss me with wild abandon until I smile, or even better, laugh. Its impossible to stay cranky when children who love you are enthusiastically hugging-patting-kissing.

They've come to the conclusion that the best way to "manage" me is to pet me until I'm happy. Thats wrong in so many ways that I almost don't know where to start. First, I suppose, is the idea that they can actually successfully manage me. I'm not easy. (Note to husband: QUIT LAUGHING). Second, I find it unnerving that a 6 and a 4 year old have a PLAN to manage me, kind of a worst-case-scenario plan-of-action. They're too young to plan ahead, like shrewd and cunningly Machivellis. Thirdly, they shouldn't take responsibility for my happiness upon themselves. I've tried to explain to them (especially Ron, age 6) that its not his responsibility. He looks at me, tilts his head to the side, pats my cheek, and smiles "you're pretty when you laugh". Its as if he's humoring a very naive child who just doesn't get it. There's barely a trace of good-natured condescention ... but any condescention from your SIX YEAR OLD is not good. This coupled with the fact that Cassie (age 2) is sure that I don't know the difference between a tiger and a cow does not speak well of my credibility with the short people.

Waves

Lucy I think you should celebrate having both identies makes you so much more fun. Let me see know, who do I want to be today...

Janelle Cruea | 05/05/2004 - 07:35 PM
 
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