As most people who read this Blog by now are probably aware, Noah loves Mickey Mouse. And that’s not a normal love; that’s a big fat lurves him! He would rather watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse than anything else in the world.
I thought for a while I was doing something wrong – bad parenting, or rather bad mothering, or something. I’ve had jokey off-hand comments thrown my way (“Letting Mickey Mouse raise your children then Nina?”) But today I realised I’m not. I’m not a bad mother. These people don’t spend every waking moment of the day with us. They don’t know what type of mother I am at all.
Almost every day we go out somewhere, whether it be to the shops, the park, a friends house or simply the garden. When we’re in we draw, we paint, we sing, we clean, we cook, we dance, we mess with play dough, we wrestle. Noah’s a very intelligent little boy – he speaks in full sentences, can work puzzles out, has a wicked sense of humour – the list is endless.
But, no matter what I do, he always goes back to Mickey.
It’s a complete obsession. When we’re in the house he hogs the television. He’s claimed it as rightfully his. I have to coerce him away from it.
It’s disturbing how passionate he can get about it. When my parents introduced him to it, little did we know what would happen.
But I can’t change time. I can’t change technology. There’s always going to be a TV set somewhere. Even if we got rid of it, moved to another country and became Amish, he’d still love it, and most probably like me a lot less; the woman who deprived him of his two greatest loves: Mickey Mouse and pushing the television buttons.
And it could be worse, I suppose.
At least it’s educational. I mean granted, Noah says ‘naw’ instead of ‘no’ some of the time, and speaks with a slight American twang but that’s endearing right? And sure, he sleeps with all his clubhouse teddies and we have to kiss them all goodnight every bed time, but that’s cute! And yes, when I ask him for the magic word he does say ‘Meeska mooska Mickey mouse’ but … ah, who am I kidding – I hate the little rodent.