Cartoons Are Improving My Parenting

Some time ago, I publicly maligned cartoons in this forum.  I sit here today to humbly ask forgiveness of my Technicolor rodent and feline friends.  I am sorry.  You are not a bad influence on my children.  In fact, you and your animated cohorts are making my parenting job easier, in unexpected and perhaps even wonderful ways.

Let's take vegetables, for instance.  Pumpkin, my 3-year-old, has never met a vegetable she didn't like.  Oh, shoot, did I say "never?"  I meant "daily."  But thanks to the terrific trio of celery-eating Linny, Tuck, and Ming-Ming, too... well, I can't say my kid's a produce-loving convert, but she tries.  I mean, how can you resist vegetables if adorable animated classroom pets love them?  (Ok... she manages to resist a LOT of the time, but like I said... we're getting there.)

And how about baths?  Bath time used to be a much-looked-forward-to ritual in our house.  And then one day, for no reason we could discern, Pumpkin decided that she hated them.  Our once-pleasant nightime ritual became a battle of wills -- and strength -- as we encouraged her, pleaded with her, and then finally forced her into the tub, with her ear-splitting, shrill screaming playing all the while.  There had to be a better way.  And then -- eureka!  We watched an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse in which Pluto enjoyed a bubble bath.  It worked for a dog -- could it work on my kid?  "Hey Pumpkin, what about if, tonight, we took a bubble bath in our bathtub -- just like Pluto?"  I dangled this before her like a cookie.  And -- she bit!  My kid no longer has a crusty food-residue ring around her mouth or flies circling her head.  She's clean!  Score another one for cartoons.

Sometimes, I can invent cartoon reasons for doing things my way.  Recently, I took Pumpkin to see Disney on Ice.  Before the show, she accompanied me to the public restroom, where she proceeded to manhandle every disgusting surface she came into contact with.  I washed my hands and suggested she do the same, but she refused.  "You know, Mickey Mouse HATES germs," I informed her.  "He won't come out for the show if he thinks any of the kids in the audience haven't washed their hands.  You want to see Mickey, right?"  A pensive look crossed her face as she imagined the show without her beloved rodent, and then she stuck her hands under the faucet.  Gotcha again, kid.

Since the cartoons are on a lot lately, I've even caught my two-month-old getting caught up in them.  I notice that as he lies on the living room rug for a diaper change (and while I'm avoiding getting peed in the face), he sometimes seems transfixed by the action on the screen.  That's right, baby.  Just let Wubbzy and his pals distract you.  This won't hurt a bit.

Are these tactics manipulative?  Eh.  Are there better ways to go about it?  Probably.  But when I'm strapped for time trying my best to keep two small children fed, clothed, safe, amused, and oh, alive, I rely on all the tricks I can.  As my pediatrician told me when I, unshowered, crazed and on the edge, had Pumpkin in for her 4-day-old check-up, "It's all about survival."  Presumably, she offered me, a then first-time mom, that advice to get me through the insane newborn days.  But I've gone back to that advice almost every day for the past three years.

Brother Mickey, aid in my salvation and help me to raise my children.  Show them your animated ways.  Teach them colors and numbers and letters.  And if you could throw in some potty training, that'd be cool, too.

An original DC Metro Moms post.  Diana shares other slack-parenting tips over at Caffeinated.