Once upon a time, there was a cute cartoon tiger that captured the hearts and eyes of her little ones. Inspired by the beloved Mr. Rogers, Daniel Tiger came onto the scene with lessons in life, parenting, and education. It is no secret that I have used Netflix to babysit my children and that I may have to continue to do so in the future.
But this Wednesday was unlike other days.
I served the boys breakfast then settled into our routine – me at the dining room table, drinking my coffee, starting my day. The boys scoping a few shows on Netflix. While they first enjoyed the show named after the game that shall not be mentioned, Jack then turned his attention to Daniel Tiger’s neighborhood. Because obviously. And then, I left passive aggressive hashtag threats to Netflix knowing full well they have no interest in hearing my madness:
The scuffle continued over the course of the next hour and suddenly, I could think of nothing more than to blame that blasted Tiger for taking a hiatus off of Netflix. How dare he find another neighborhood to stream in? Has he no loyalty?
To the likes of “Thanks, Obama,” I then found this cartoon Tiger to be the perfect scapegoat for our perfectly pathetic day.
#ThanksDaniel. For reminding me that I hadn’t mopped in days and for allowing me to share this travesty with my co-workers whom I had to interrupt on a conference call so I could check my driveway for blood.
Moving on, I then decided to take my mom up on her offer to leave the house to grab some lunch. We loaded my two boys and my nephew into the car for some delicious eats. And some punches.
I am now beginning to think that perhaps instead of Daniel Tiger, my mother used Jack Daniels to survive my childhood.
Moving right along, my mother decided to take my children for a few hours to give me some silence.
Would you believe that it took about two hours for me to realize that 1.) My mother still had my children and 2.) That she had not once checked in on me? I was simultaneously grateful and offended that she had forgotten about me.
One hour after that, my children descend upon me once again at the house and I realize that I have now not left my dining room table in three hours nor had I showered. My children decide to channel the Summer olympics and do acrobatics off the couch and scale the doorways while I am permanently affixed to my seat.
Shortly thereafter, I deposit both boys in the tub to scrub the day off of them and their father arrives just in time. I cheerfully describe our day Thanks to Daniel and do so with a smile on my face as I have agreed to approach things more positively. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
And now here I sit. Thirteen hours after Mr. Roger’s prodigy failed me so. Dinner is done and partially on the floor. Baths are finished with towels strewn about. The ice cream is melting and my Netflix is streaming.
Because even when a tiger in a cardigan fails me, I know Netflix never will.
Do you remember where you were when you found out Daniel Tiger had left the Netflix neighborhood?
I’m dead.