If you have entered the wonderful world of parenthood within the last nine years, you have probably heard of the children’s TV show Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. If not, here’s the five-second synopsis: It’s a reboot of Mister Roger’s Neighborhood—sans Mister Rogers—in which the main character, Daniel Tiger (inspired by the scruffy puppet from the original), faces and overcomes a myriad of emotional and social challenges, all while living exclusively in the animated Land of Make Believe. Capiche?
In terms of breakfast cereal, if Paw Patrol is the Cocoa Pebbles of TV shows, Daniel Tiger is Raisin Nut Bran. Sure, it would be better to eat egg whites and whole wheat toast, but Raisin Nut Bran is full of some pretty good stuff.
When, as a two-year-old, my oldest daughter was in the throes of obsession with Daniel (even dressing as the red sweater-wearing feline for Halloween), my husband and I often took cues from Mom and Dad Tiger, who are quite exemplary parents. They were a beacon for us as first-time parents who had passed through the phase of simply keeping our child alive and had moved into the treacherous territory of teaching her how to be a decent human being. The one-line jingles from the show became musical mantras in our home:
It’s almost time to stop, so choose one more thing to do.
Grown-ups come back to you, grown-ups come back, it’s true.
When you feel so mad that you want to ROAR, take a deep breath, and count to four.
When you’re sick—rest is best, rest is best.
Things may change and that’s okay. Today we can do things a different way.
Out of the corner of my eye, while doing dishes or wiping yogurt from the table, I watched and listened as Mom Tiger responded to Daniel’s emotional traumas—broken vases, annoying baby sisters, friends who use your favorite crayon, having to take a break to use the bathroom, a smooshed birthday cake. Every possible inconvenience a toddler might encounter. With each response, Mom Tiger’s voice was warm and sweet as honey. She spoke slowly. Never yelled. Always had the perfect words, set to song and rhyme. Each time she soothed him, Daniel calmed down. Each time she explained something, Daniel understood.
Episode after episode, I watched and I told myself, I will be Mom Tiger. And by golly, a lot of the time I was.
But guess what? My kid was not Daniel Tiger.
An invitation to take a deep breath and count to four—even one set to song and rhyme—often induced more roaring from my daughter. A reminder that grown-ups indeed do come back still elicited an accusation of neglect when my husband and I went on a date. And our daughter was quick to inform us that it is absolutely not okay if things change because “I HAVE TO SLEEP WITH MY PURPLE BIRDIE BLANKIE! NO OTHER BLANKIE WILL DO!”
Here’s the deal with Daniel—and we must keep these things in mind so as not to drive ourselves crazy or be tricked into thinking that we are the ones in an alternate reality. Daniel has only 22 minutes to master each emotional or behavioral concept, so of course he complies and is soothed and understands the first—maybe second—time his parents approach him.
By contrast, my kid has her whole life to learn these things, and she certainly doesn’t seem to be in a rush. Heck, I’m an adult and I’m still figuring out that you can change your hair or what you wear, but no matter what you do, you’re still you.
The other characteristic of Daniel Tiger that makes him very unlike real children is that he has only one issue per day. It would be easy to validate and painstakingly work through my child’s feelings if she had only one feeling a day. All Mom and Dad Tiger have to do is play therapist for Daniel’s one issue, just a few minutes, and then they all go on their merry ways, perhaps spending the afternoon sunning themselves on Jungle Beach or taking a stroll through the Enchanted Garden.
But for me, back in the Land of Reality? There is a new issue at least every hour. On our worst days, we can encounter the same number of emotional dilemmas in one afternoon that Daniel experiences over an entire season. That just ain’t fair.
And so, dear child, I can’t always be Mom Tiger for you. We don’t live in the Land of Make Believe. I am human, and so are you. But you’d better believe that no matter how many rotations we make on the museum-go-round of your emotions, and even when the day in our neighborhood is only beautifulish, this will always be true: I’ll be back when the day is new, and I’ll have more ideas for you. And you’ll have things you want to talk about. I will too.
Because it’s you I like.
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