I mean, they’re Muppets.

Snarky, opinionated post ahead. I generally avoid them. Sorry.

Recently, I have come across a few different blog posts in which parents express their disdain for “commercial” toys and clothes and such, and the example of said blasphemy was something from Sesame Street.

Like, “we never wanted little Johnny to have any commercial toys at all. But we caved and got him an Elmo.”

And I just don’t get this. At all. Yeah, it’s a show. And yeah, they’re making money off the merch. But, it’s Sesame Street. The show has been around for 35 years for a reason. It’s educational. It’s good for kids. It’s what all children’s programming should aspire to be.

In my opinion, it’s nowhere near the level of “commercial” of other stuff. Like Pokemon, or Power Rangers, or anything on Nick Jr., or anything made by Pixar. Now, that’s commercial.

I’ve barely been able to step outside of my front door this summer without seeing an image of Lightning McQueen on something. But, the Sesame Street toys are in a tiny little bastard corner of Target.

It’s ok to have rules like “no commercial stuff.” We have them too. But, don’t let your parenting rules be hard and fast, unbendable rules. Because, then a whole generation of kids could miss out on such a great show, an American cultural icon.

I think my insane respect and love for this show comes not only from having such fond memories of watching it as a child myself, but also from watching this documentary. A lot more thought goes into their programming than you would ever guess in a million years. Watch the film, it’s great.

Yes, we let him.

Funny thing happened at preschool today. Funny in that I feel like a moron.

We were singing this fun song at music time: “Wake me, shake me, don’t let me sleep too long. In the morning I …. ” and then the teacher calls on a child and they fill in the blank. I eat breakfast. I put on clothes. I brush my teeth. I say good-bye to my dad. Whatever.

Teacher calls on Bowie. Who is 2 1/2 and off in his own entire universe when this is happening. Teacher says, “What does Bowie do in the morning, mom?”

I say, “Uuuuuuuummmmmmmmmm he watches Curious George.”

The pause in the room was palpable. I mean, GOD LOVE ‘EM but most San Francisco parents are not hip to the half hour of peace you can get from plopping your kiddo in front of a nice television program. (Or, at least they’d never admit to it in the very public manner that I chose.)

The song went on as normal, but LORD, the PAUSE.

I’m here today to admit, yes, I let my son watch television.

At least I said Curious George, he’s on PBS. I could have said Fresh Beat Band or something AMIRITE.