It all started with Dora . . . and her little image plastered all over a box of Pampers Pull-ups. (Sigh)
Since the Little Lady’s birth, I have been avoiding Miss Dora. I’ll be frank: she annoys the HECK out of me.
Her eyes are freaky big.
Her head is just about the oddest and biggest shape a kid could have.
SHE SHOUTS EVERYTHING SHE SAYS!
Did I mention her eyes are freaky big?
Yeah, not a Dora fan.
But, we’re potty-training and Dora (and her purple monkey pal) is the star of our Pull-ups. For the sake of being back to a “only-1-in-diapers” family, I gulped down my annoyance and disgust (and fear of those freaky eyes) and introduced the Little Lady to Dora.
My daughter now talks like Dora — everything is shouted and repeated.
“THANK YOU, MOMMY! THANK YOU!“
“HURRY, MOMMY — HURRY!“
“I’M HUNGRY, MOMMY! I’M HUNGRY!“
And, thanks to a silly Mommy letting Daddy take the Little Lady for her first professional hair cut (WHAT in the world was I thinking), she also has Dora’s hair. Yep — a very unattractive bob replaced my daughter’s beautiful long curls. Now, I’m not saying all bobs are ridiculous. Just this one. Her curls are way too crazy for this cut . . . which is why her hair now goes every which direction but down. Good times and good grief.
Anyway, back to Dora and why I’m banning her and her little cousin, Diego.
Yeah — BANNING those freaky eyed kids. (Seriously, whose eyes take up a third of their face?)
After we started watching Dora and Diego, the Little Lady developed quite the fondness for Diego and he became the one show she “had” to watch. Foolishly, I indulged her.
“What’s the harm,” I thought. My issues with Dora and Diego were superficial — the Little Lady didn’t seem to notice the same things I did about those two kids. Instead, she was focused on the animals . . .Diego’s “Rescue Pack,” and all of the other tools Diego uses to rescue lost animals. What harm could come from watching his little show?
Plenty. PLENTY of harm.
The Little Lady discovered the concept of “being lost” and it has freaked. . . her. . . out!
Naptime and bedtime have become nightmarish — for all involved. She whimpers, cries, and screams. If you push her to “use her words” and explain what’s wrong, the Little Lady asks only one thing.
“You’re not going to lose me?“
It’s awful. She is terrified to go to sleep for fear that, when she awakes, she will be lost. Mommy will be lost. Daddy will be lost.
“Help! Anybody? HELP!,” she screams — face down at the crack under the door.
We’ve tried explaining that we will never lose her . . . never, ever. That we love her too much. But, it seems Diego’s lesson that animals and people can be lost is stronger than our reassurances.
Last night, when her Daddy went back to her room after she started her blood-curdling screams, she chastised him through hiccupy sobs. “Daddy, you were supposed to rescue me!“
How does one fix this? I point out that I always come get her when she wakes up — that I am always here for her — that we have never lost each other.
It’s not working.
This morning, after getting Mr. Boy to sleep (who, thankfully, only needs one of “the girls” to feel all cozy and sleepy), I had to stay with the Little Lady, by her little white toddler bed, until she fell asleep.
I sang to her. Stroked her hair. Patted her leg. Whispered over and over, “I’m not going to lose you, Little Lady. I’m not going to lose you.“
When her heavy lids finally closed and her breathing deepened, this Mommy tip-toed out of the room and decided to ban Diego.
I think we need to go back to spending our mornings reading books, playing with play-do, and dressing our baby dolls. Activities where Mommy is right by the Little Lady’s side. Activities where no one gets lost. No one is separated from their family. No one has to rely on a “Rescue Pack Coming To The Rescue.”
Where it’s just Mommy and the Little Lady. And Mr. Boy . . . who likes to join in the fun by pulling hair and blowing spit bubbles. Ehhh — to each his own.
Yeah — it’s time to tell Diego, “Adios.” At least until my poor Little Lady is finally convinced no one is going to lose her.
