This week’s Blog Friend Feature has a way of looking at things that really makes me stop and think. Because I tend to whine and complain over the little things, while Nichole of In These Small Moments sees the bigger picture and finds the joy in the every day.
Meet the lovely Nichole:
Before I tell you how PBS has turned my life upside down, I want to thank Shell for having me here.
I’ve watched this amazing BFF space for so long, dreaming of the day when it would be my turn. I envisioned sharing a small moment with you, as that’s kind of my thing.
But, when I sat down to write, I couldn’t get this current problem out of my head, so I’m going to share it here.
Thanks for indulging me, Shell. Much love to you!
I’m hoping one of you has some pull with PBS and can help me out with this problem I’m having…
One would think that PBS programming is pretty safe for children, right?
That they could take comfort in knowing that their children are in good hands while watching PBS?
Well, that’s not the case.
PBS simply cannot be trusted.
More specifically, Sid the Science Kid cannot be trusted.
Oh sure, he looks harmless enough, but don’t be fooled by his goofy grin and floppy purple hair.
This boy is trouble.
PBS describes him as a preschooler who, “does two things that make him the perfect scientist…he observes the world around him, and he asks LOTS of questions. And like a budding comedian, Sid’s observations and questions are FUNNY (in a preschool kind of way).”
They make him sound harmless and endearing, right?
Sid taught my four-year-old daughter something that she did not need to know.
The word Mom.
Until Katie began watching Sid, I was Mommy.
But now, a few times each day, she calls me Mom.
I’m just not ready to be Mom.
She’s only four.
Perhaps it was because she was a delayed talker, or maybe because I hold on too tightly, but I’m just not ready for this change.
Following on the heels of Mom is Mother.
When I call her for dinner, she often replies, “Coming, Mom.” And when she enters the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of her at eight, twelve, and sixteen years old.
These years are so fleeting. It seems like it was just last year that she was born and I held her close, taking in her sweet baby smell, and dreamed of hearing her say my name.
I want to keep her small for just a bit longer. I want to soak up the sound of her voice when she does call me Mommy.
I know that I will blink and she will be grown and I will most often hear my name over the telephone from college or wherever her dreams may take her.
But for now, I’m going to fight the good fight…I’m holding onto Mommy.
Think I can convince her to start watching Sesame Street again? As annoying as he is, Elmo is trustworthy.
And if any of you have any pull with PBS, can you please speak with someone about getting Sid to call his mother Mommy?