Catherine Connors is a mother, writer and recovering academic who traded the lecture hall for the playroom and discovered that university students and preschoolers have much the same attention span. She still dips her toes into academic waters by writing the occasional scholarly article about the place of motherhood in Western philosophy, but mostly now she changes diapers and wipes noses and indulges in long reflections on whether Yo Gabba Gabba is a harbinger of the decline of western civilization. Oh, and she blogs: in addition to Bad Mother blogging at BeliefNet, she is, among other things, the author of HerBadMother.com, Managing Editor of MamaPop, moderator of Her Bad Mother’s Basement, co-founder and co-editor of WeCovet, Contributing Editor at BlogHer, and (deep breath) founder of and contributor to Canada Moms Blog. And in her spare time… oh, wait. She doesn’t have spare time. But she’s okay with that.
Baby’s got a new best friend.
Ok, well, she’s got a lot of best friends, all in a rotating cycle of preference. The top dog best friend of the moment, however, is Whoozit.
Whoozit is like this reject from the Muppet factory. Or Animal’s alien cousin from the planet Zork. Or how I would have seen Animal had my pre-pubescent self been on acid while watching the Muppets. (I of course would never take acid while watching the Muppets as an adult – which, by the way, I am totally up for. The Muppets, that is. Not the acid. You don’t need acid with the Muppets. Besides, it would just corrupt the purity of the Rainbow Connection.)
Anyway. Baby LOVES Whoozit. Or, at least, is fascinated by him. (Someday she’ll need to learn to distinguish between these two emotional experiences. But for now it’s fine.) Which is exactly what the Whoozit’s publicist promised – on the propaganda that comes attached to Whoozit’s arm – “Nothing engages babies quite like Whoozit.” It also informs that Whoozit is “Baby’s favourite friend,” and that “When you’re discovering the world, it’s good to have friends like Whoozit along.”
I’ll say. ‘Cause that world has got some rough ‘hoods and bad crowds.
This is the barnyard posse. These dudes are bad, yo.
They lurk near – OK, on – Baby’s rocker-bouncer chair. Every time, it starts out nicely – they’re all like, “Hey, Baby, whazzup?” and Notorious C.O.W. riffs on Old MacDonald and everybody’s down. But before long it gets real ugly – they start giving her the stare-down stink-eye and, I think, mocking her outfits – and it ends in tears.
So that’s where Whoozit comes in. Pull crying Baby away from the Barn Gang and sit her down next to Whoozit and everything’s fine. I think it’s a My Bodyguard kind of thing. Whoozit is way bigger and scarier looking than C.O.W., Lil’ Pig and Sheepie, but that’s the point. Whoozit could so take them.
So Baby says,”… and then they came at me like this!” And Whoozit goes and kicks some barnyard ass.
“Baby’s favourite friend.” Don’t leave the nursery without him.
Originally posted at Her Bad Mother, 2006. Copyright Catherine Connors 2006 – 2009.