Obsession

We have an Elmo obsession in full-force, here, folks. I am just warning you.

It happened very organically. There was an Elmo pop-up book at school. A friend of mine's mother goes garage sale hunting and produced an Elmo DVD that she shipped out with tons of other goodies. And now there is Elmo Goes Potty.

Elmo Goes Potty (or whatever it's called -- Potty Me Elmo? ... um, no) needs to drink something from his sippy cup, or at least hat's what Elmo says. And you know what? Mateo likes to give him his sippy cup. So this is just grand, as it means that Mateo has an activity besides grabbing himself that he can do during diaper changes. I say, "Bring it on!"

Also, there is the DVD phenomenon. My child is not one to sit still. I will go out on a limb here and say that single parents generally have a hard time of things, and that is made doubly hard with a child who is not content to just sit on the floor and play in one spot. When I try to cook dinner (which, admittedly, I have done less and less of recently), it is a constant battle between chopping the veggies or keeping my child from investigating the contents of the garbage can. Stirring the pasta and him toppling over the lamp. That sort of thing. Oh, the joys of only having two hands! So, yes. I have set Mateo in front of the computer for 15-minute chunks so that I can make us dinner. At first, I had some guilt. But now, not so much.

Whenever he watches this particular DVD, he yells, "Elmo!" at the screen when he sees him. So its, you know, interactive n' shit.

Sometimes, when we are driving around, he will be quiet for awhile in the backseat. This generally means he's sleeping, or at least nodding off. But occasionally, he'll just randomly blurt out, "Elmo?" after a long silence. Loud and clear, pretty much in the form of a question, and I am fairly certain he is just asking me when he is going to get to see his friend again, in whatever form it may be: book. stuffed doll. animated image. He just wants to know.

So yesterday, I was putting some clothes away in the bedroom and Mateo was with me. Then I went to the bathroom, and he followed me there but then veered towards his room. I let him go in alone and heard him investigating his toys in the closet, so didn't follow him in right away. Suddenly, I heard a jubilant, half-crazed yelling from his room: "Elmo! Elmo! Elmo! Elmo!" It sounded as if suddenly his room was full of an Elmo parade, and he had to excitedly point out each and every one to his invisible audience.

I ran in to see what the fuss was, and Mateo stood in the middle of his room with both his arms extended high above his head. In each hand he was holding a diaper, each with a cheesy image of Elmo on the butt.

Yes, my friend, yet again. Another Elmo to love.