There has been a great deal in the news lately about torture. I won't use this space to start unloading my views on the subject, except to say, that when reviewing the CIA memos about the various techniques that were used to encourage prisoners to provide information, one technique was notably absent from the list. That would be the Barney technique. Now I've never been exposed to waterboarding or walling, nor have I been forced to share a small space with unwelcome insects, but I have been exposed to the Barneying. This form of torture exposes the subject to multiple episodes of purple dinosaur tales without interruption. If you attempt to shut the presentation down, a two year old child will scream as if he is witnessing the bloody slaying of live dinosaurs right in front of him.
Elliott has officially fallen in love with Barney and Katie is to blame. My mother-in-law informed me this week that many years ago Katie insisted that no child of hers would ever watch Barney. These days, it would have been FAR more accurate if she had said no child of hers would be permitted a moment's rest from watching Barney. And if that child did take a rest, the entire break would be spent in a screaming fit of separation anxiety that would have the neighbors lined up and begging to give us their own child's Barney collection.
Elliott and Ian are anxiously awaiting the arrival of Papa Hoss and Gigi at the end of this week. They haven't seen them since before Christmas, so there will be a lot of catching up to do. Elliott's personality has taken on a new life since then and Ian's new life has more than doubled in size. Katie is heading out of town for a much deserved weekend of R and R, so I am grateful for the visiting reinforcements.
I had a wonderful birthday yesterday. Elliott sang a quick rendition of Happy Birthday, then immediately began scanning the kitchen for the birthday cake. He doesn't understand the concept of aging yet, but he does understand sweets. For me, birthdays lost their significance long ago. When you turn 16 you get turned loose with a vehicle. At 18 and 21 you are granted the rest of the benefits and responsibilities of adulthood. After that, it's just another year. My great-grandfather once said he was much more concerned about not celebrating a birthday than celebrating one. I guess that's the way you look at it when you see the gift in every day. When you have kids, that gift is bigger and easier to see. Although there are days, days when Barney is playing, when you momentarily wonder about return policies.