Stop It Rosie

I have a love hate thing going on with PBS kids. For sure, it is good, safe programming that my kids love and I can leave it on all day without worrying, (bad mommy, too much tv, no no) unless there is a membership drive and then even the baby is scrambling for the remote. I have a few guidelines, like no the No Dragon Tales Before Mommy Has Had Her Coffee Rule. And I think I may be on some sort of PBS watch list, because when I get bored I send emails to my local station saying things like, “What happens when Clifford poops? I mean, he’s HUGE and he lives on this little island and all. Do they have a special boat to haul it away, or is that the reason the island is so lush and green?”

To date, I am still waiting for a response.

I really want to tell them that my strange, brilliant son turned PBS into a language. Jude’s brain couldn’t organize and come up with words to describe what he wanted and how he was feeling, so he borrowed from PBS. When we would put him to bed he’d say, “That’s all the PBS kids for today, folks. Thanks for watching.” When he would get up in the morning he’d say, "It’s time for Sesame Street. Stick around for Big Bird and Elmo, Cookie Monster..,” you get the picture. When he was snuggling with me before bed, he would say, ‘Teletubbies love the Noonoo, very much.”

The noonoo, is of course, the snuffly thing that follows the Teletubbies around cleaning up after them. At that point I was willing to take what I could get.

Most of all, Jude spoke Caillou.

For those of you fortunate enough not to spend your day pondering cartoon dog poop Caillou is a Canadian show about a little bald kid (why is he bald? I emailed the station with some very helpful links regarding alopecia) who goes around doing little kid things while his nice frumpy, maddeningly even tempered parents set reasonable boundaries for him while never losing their tempers. (Never. I wake up every morning thinking, is this the day Caillou’s Mommy will throw toast at Caillou’s Daddy? Where are the characters I can identify with? Sigh.)

A nararator comments on Caillou’s feelings in a simple, direct way. “Caillou was sad that the bird flew away. Caillou was angry that Rosie (his younger sister) took his toy. Caillou was afraid of the storm.”

Jude was mesmerized by this. As the show built up to the big moment of Caillou expressing himself “I don’t WANT to play with Rosie,” Jude would begin to jump and flap as if it were almost midnight on New Year’s Eve. He would yell CAILLOU” whenever something happened that he did not like. Soon he began to branch out, repeating whole episodes perfectly when they related to what we were doing, like when we took the el train, Jude would do the whole episode when Caillou takes the subway with Mommy.

Then he started calling his baby brother Rosie. “No Rosie, that’s mine!” from the countless episodes depicting sibling conflict. Poor Eden would walk in the room and Jude would yell, “Mommy, Daddy says I have to play with Rosie!” Eden still answers to both names.

Jude would do Caillou’s laugh when he was stressed. Once when I left him for two days to help my mother move he did the “Caillou is sad in daycare” episode for a week. Jude’s school had a name for it. I called up to see how he was after a rough morning. “Well," says Maggie, the teacher’s aide, “Well, he’s still Caillouing a little, but I think he’ll be okay."

Sometimes the references would be very subtle, and heartbreakingly poignant. When we were on the way to a new occupational therapist, I heard the nararator’s voice from the back seat, "Caillou was excited, but a little afraid, too”. One night on the way home from a late therapy session we stopped to look for an el train on a quiet Wrigleyville side street.

It was February, and the leafless trees shook in the wind.

“Suddenly,” said Jude looking up at the sky, “Caillou felt all alone.”

Perfect.

I remember, as a preteen boiling with angst and fury and desire, how a certain song would capture exactly how I felt, put all my murky muddled feelings into words. Song lyrics, poetry, art, that is what they do. Caillou? Poetry? Now I’m scaring myself.

I will say I am grateful for the little bald boy in his yellow shirt. (Jude wants to wear the same shirt every day as well, and I am sure this is no accident. Jude has five shirts, all the same color and design. Thanks a lot, Caillou.) Jude does have a poetic soul, I am sure. There's stuff in there that just needs a way to come out. I have seen non-verbal kids with autism create long sentences, even make jokes with their velcro picture books. PBS kids is Jude’s sign language, his pecs book. Last year he started substituting his words for Caillou’s, using Caillou’s sentence structure but changing the words to fit the situation.

“I don’t want to go to school” instead of “I don’t want to go to daycare,” from the show.

Now he only Caillous when he needs to get across a more complicated emotion.

Like, applying himself at therapy tasks, and finding them surprisingly enjoyable. “But I thought you didn’t like vegetables, Caillou.” Brilliant. I kiss him goodnight and as I am closing the door, a quiet sad voice:” I don’t want to go to bed, I didn’t find the treasure yet.” My eyes fill with tears. Ain’t it the truth, love. Not enough hours in day to find that proverbial treasure. We’ll try again tomorrow.

So, this fall, when Jude goes off to school early in the morning and comes home well past PBS kids time, I will probably turn the tube to Channel Eleven for Eden and let him watch.

Except for Barney. Oh my God, Barney.

Please. Don’t get me started.