Barney, Dora, and ... email?

02.09.06

            So the column, technically, is about parenting, at least that’s what I pitched to the editor of Reader Weekly, but I’m terrible at staying on topic so I might stray a bit now and then.  I’m a 34 year old mom of a 2 ½  year old girl.  And I work. 

            I have no guilt about working.  In this household it’s a fact of life that in order to a) heat the house, and b) eat, Dad and Mom both have to work.

            But I’ll tell you one of my dirty little secrets:  I’m addicted to the computer.  Reading, writing, surfing, emailing, chatting, blogging – whatever.  I love it.

            The dirtiest part of my dirty little secret is that I buy computer time in the form of Dora the Explorer and Barney DVDs.  And when I load one up I choose the “continuous play” option.

            Bad Mommy! 

            Daddy should spank her!  (But not in front of the child).

            My computer time is precious.  And I’m willing to suffer the horror of others and a little bit of guilt to bask in front of the glowing screen.

            My computer time is precious (did I mention that my computer time is precious?) And so I resent certain kinds of email that somehow are always lurking in my in box. 

            You know what I’m talking about

            It’s the dreaded forwarded email.

            The one where the subject line reads FWD: This story will bring tears to your eyes.  And if you bother (or dare) to read on, you’ll read a heartwarming story about a disillusioned teenager who ran out of gas at the filling station and didn’t have any money, but he had a shotgun so he held up the filling station attendant because it was Christmas Eve and his wife was at home, nine and a half months pregnant, with their three disabled children and they had no Christmas presents and only a bag of frozen peas to eat.  And the gas station attendant turned out to be Jesus in disguise and he said, “All is not lost, my son,” and the poor desperate teen shot him dead right there, but the spirit of Jesus rose up and said, “I forgive you, my son,” as the kid emptied the till, filled up his gas tank and headed for SuperWalmartHell.  But on the way there he got into an accident and died.  When he got to the gates of heaven the kid said to St. Peter, “I suppose you won’t let me in,” and St. Peter said, “Well, you did shoot Jesus, but since he forgave you I guess I can’t hold a grudge, and considering the only store within fifty miles of your house is Walmart, I’d say you’ve done your time in hell.  Come on in, son.”  God Bless America and Support our Troops. 

            The dreaded FWD always ends with God Bless America and Support our Troops.

            The moral of the story is do yourself a favor and just skip those emails altogether.  Read the Reader Weekly instead.  Or just give up on reading entirely and watch Dora the Explorer.  She’ll teach you lots of fun and useful words in Spanish.

              Oh yeah, and a little bit of Barney never hurt anyone, either.  Except sometimes that song (no, not that one, the other one) gets stuck in your head for hours and hours until you begin to think perhaps a trip to the psychiatrist’s office might be in order.

            If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gumdrops oh what a rain that would be.  Standing outside with my mouth open wide, eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh 

            So says screamingly funny but parenting non-expert…. me.

 

To read this column from the Reader Weekly archive click below ...

http://www.readerweekly.us/2006/357/Sheri_Johnson.html