Last week, Adil announced to his nanny, Ingrid, that he was going to have a baby sister. Adil is NOT having a baby sister (much to Ingrid's disappointment). But his new favorite cartoon-character, Daniel Tiger, is, and Adil seems to have some trouble distinguishing between the life of his fictional feline friend, and his own.
He's been calling us, Mom and Dad, instead of Amma and Baba, just like Daniel Tiger does.
He stomps his feet three times, when he's angry, just like Daniel Tiger does. Errrrr, actually, Adil stomps his feet many more times than three.
Explaining away an imaginary baby sister, is easier than apologizing for being summoned with the words, "Come here, you fat, little piggy!", as Adil had been doing, when he was obsessed with Peppa Pig. So taken was he, with the endearingly plump, puddle-jumping, little piggy, that we were all pigs, as far as he was concerned. As you can imagine, it's led to some uncomfortable situations, in school, at home and on playgrounds. It's also quite demoralizing being called a piggy, if you happen to be carrying around a few extra pounds, as I am the the moment.
When he was addicted to Bob the Builder, we were all designated roles, as various construction machines. Adil himself switched between being Bob the Builder and his digger, Scoop, and I was usually Dizzy, the cement-mixer. We were constantly reminded that Adil/Bob was the 'Boss' and we, his obedient minions. When Adil/Bob shouted, "Can we fix it?!" we were expected to chime in with an enthusiastic, "Yes we can!" My visiting brother, once had the nerve to reply, "No we can't!" and Adil/Bob, didn't take it lightly, at all.
I have finally understood the good old TV rating system. It's not to protect children. It's to protect us adults. Parental discretion advised, really means, "Beware Moms and Dads! If your child watches this show, you will be subjected to its long-term, irreversible, often damaging, side effects."
He's been calling us, Mom and Dad, instead of Amma and Baba, just like Daniel Tiger does.
He stomps his feet three times, when he's angry, just like Daniel Tiger does. Errrrr, actually, Adil stomps his feet many more times than three.
Explaining away an imaginary baby sister, is easier than apologizing for being summoned with the words, "Come here, you fat, little piggy!", as Adil had been doing, when he was obsessed with Peppa Pig. So taken was he, with the endearingly plump, puddle-jumping, little piggy, that we were all pigs, as far as he was concerned. As you can imagine, it's led to some uncomfortable situations, in school, at home and on playgrounds. It's also quite demoralizing being called a piggy, if you happen to be carrying around a few extra pounds, as I am the the moment.
When he was addicted to Bob the Builder, we were all designated roles, as various construction machines. Adil himself switched between being Bob the Builder and his digger, Scoop, and I was usually Dizzy, the cement-mixer. We were constantly reminded that Adil/Bob was the 'Boss' and we, his obedient minions. When Adil/Bob shouted, "Can we fix it?!" we were expected to chime in with an enthusiastic, "Yes we can!" My visiting brother, once had the nerve to reply, "No we can't!" and Adil/Bob, didn't take it lightly, at all.
I have finally understood the good old TV rating system. It's not to protect children. It's to protect us adults. Parental discretion advised, really means, "Beware Moms and Dads! If your child watches this show, you will be subjected to its long-term, irreversible, often damaging, side effects."
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