"No. I hate Daniel Tiger,” my six-year-old son mumbled in protest to his twin sister’s screen time selection.
“No you don’t!” I insisted to him in surprise.
“Yes I do,” he muttered back.
I have a soft spot for Daniel Tiger. It’s one of the kid’s shows I not only tolerate but enjoy. I’ve found myself significantly invested in the character’s storylines. I’ve come up with my own theories about the characters. (FYI Katerina Kittycat and Prince Wednesday are totally hooking up in the future.) And, when you can get beyond the unbelievable and compulsive patience of Mom Tiger, you discover there are lessons to be found as a parent, as well.
There’s also the fact that Daniel Tiger was the first show the twins ever cared to watch consistently, when they were smaller, when I was desperate for just a few moments to myself.
Caden and Brooklyn were 15 months old when I discovered I was pregnant again. Morning sickness never comes for me, but enormous and all-consuming amounts of fatigue do. Despite almost never using the TV before, I began to force it on them. I tried in vain to get them to watch something—anything—so I could lay on our microfiber couch and pretend to parent.
They weren’t interested. All my “no screentime before two” zeal seemed to have backfired.
Within a few months of expecting our third baby in two years, we were also moving. And my husband worked out-of-state. He didn’t live with us for any stretch longer than four days for four straight months, with our move planted firmly in the middle of that timeline. I needed backup any way I could get it.
I don’t remember how I came across Daniel Tiger, but I do remember realizing the twins were paying attention to it. Their usually active bodies stilled, their eyes glowed. My breath, though not all at one, began to release. First they were taken in by the songs, then drawn into the storyline for minutes at a time. Little by little, their interest grew. This is when they learned to embrace Daniel Tiger, half an episode at a time that fall, while my belly grew with their sibling and I learned to pack up our apartment in twelve-minute spurts.
Read the rest of this piece over on Coffee+Crumbs.