Some of my happiest childhood memories were watching Sesame Street on Sunday mornings at my grandparents’ house. My grandpa would fix me a small glass of grapefruit juice set on a folded newspaper as a placemat while my grandma would fry bacon and whip up pancakes. I’d sip my juice in front of their giant piece of furniture TV and watch Bert and Ernie, the Ladybug’s picnic song, and “One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve (doo doo doo doo)”. Bob would be kind of embarrassing, singing “Sing a Song” and Grover would frustrate that balding Muppet guy with the giant round blue head who just wanted to order a meal at a restaurant.
My kids are so not interested in Sesame Street. There are many more options (hello, cable), that they’d rather watch Max and Ruby, Handy Manny or back in the day, even the Teletubbies. There was a brief period when they were very little (despite the American Association of Pediatrics warning that they should not watch TV) that they liked Elmo. Elmo is cute and all, but he’s no old school Cookie Monster.
I’ve tried to slip Sesame Street into our TV watching repertoire, but they are not having it. When my son turned one, and had no choice in the matter, Ernie was his party theme. I even made an Ernie cake with licorice for hair. I bought the vintage Fisher Price Little People Sesame Street house for nostalgia’s sake, which he plays with regularly even though he has no idea who Prairie Dawn is.
Today after Dinosaur Train on PBS, Sesame Street was up next. His 3 year old self declared, “No Sesame Street” (even though I probably watched it until I was 10). I looked longingly at the promo for the upcoming season, with Vince from Entourage as a guest star (sigh) and didn’t even argue as clicked to Jungle Junction.