Man In The Mirror

I'm pretty hip when it comes to knowing what my kids are watching or reading. I know that Dora's iguana's friend's name is Isa. I know that Caillou's little sister is Rosie. Kai-lan friended me on Facebook. But I have a problem with Arthur and how the money has changed him.

Arthur is some sort of brown, furry, most likely mammalian, possibly tailed, Harry-Potter-bespectacled...creature. We've read the books and watched the show, and until I Googled this freak, I had no idea what kind of animal he was. I asked Audrey and she said he is a mouse. I guessed he was a squirrel.

Turns out he is an aardvark. An aardvark?

Long after Audrey had become a full-fledged Arthur fan, we checked out the first Arthur book in the series-- vintage Arthur. And that book, irony of ironies, featured a prominent proboscis and the old school Arthur learning to be proud of his nosey uniqueness. Apparently Mr. Arthur author decided after his first book that a nosejob was in order. Now I can barely tell who, or what, Arthur is. Have we learned nothing from Michael Jackson?

I Laughed, I Cried, I Saved All Our Empty Tuna Fish Cans

Every once in awhile, I need a little pick-me-up. Our TiVo is pretty jammed up with reruns of The Office, The Simpsons, and Max and Ruby. But I always make sure to grab a few feel-good episodes of Intervention and Hoarders. Don't ask me why I watch these nightmares. It's not schadenfreude because I don't revel in the misery of these people. But I will admit that it makes me feel just a little bit better about my life. A little bit more grateful. I've never done a line of coke off a gas station toilet seat or stored used adult diapers in our extra bedroom, but the collapse of these characters from seemingly functional human to broken being highlights the edge that may be a little closer than any of us would like to admit. There, but for the grace of God, go I.