Of Mimes and Monsters
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where -- despite the advice of some of our readers -- we will not lace Xmas cookies with Ex-Lax, even if they are to be consumed by mega-church fundies! However, the suggestion was appreciated greatly, because it fulfilled the central mission of TGAB:
Make 'em laugh. Including me!
Would you believe I just had to make a list (and check it twice) because I have so many topics I want to write about? I'm glad the topic calendar is full, because when I turn this space over to my faeries they use potty words.
Tonight is Mime Night in Snobville. Yahoo!
Every year prior to Solstice, the quaint, histrionic (oh wait, I meant historic) borough of Snobville has fun Friday night shopping. Each Friday the town fills with strolling carollers and dulcimer groups. Santa holds court for the tots, and there are horse-drawn carriage rides. Traditionally the third Friday in this melee is Mime Night.
One of the local schools has a mime troupe. The mimes are unleashed upon Snobville and are a huge hit with the under-15 set.
Of course Snobville has another mime. That would be the Fighting Wombat Mascot, a.k.a my daughter, The Heir. She considers the Wombat her opportunity to mime. She is never seen in anything but the full costume, and she never speaks a word while she's wearing it.
Heir deems her Wombat outings "performance art." She's at that age, dontcha know.
I usually follow the Fighting Wombat around. Some middle schoolers have evil minds and will try to tackle the mascot or pull off its head, gloves, or even its furry feet. So it is necessary for the Wombat to have a "keeper" at a discreet distance.
This is what I've learned from following The Snobville Fighting Mascot as it makes its way through sporting events and community affairs:
The vast majority of children who are old enough to walk are not afraid of the Fighting Wombat. In fact they usually want a hug or a high-five. Toddlers and babies are sometimes frightened by the Wombat. To them this huge furry thing is real and big.
Kids who can walk have learned that big furry things are just nut case people who dress up and sweat like pigs to entertain them.
Many times I've seen a kid strike a pose in front of the Wombat, and then the Wombat strikes the same pose back at the kid. It is far more rare to see a kid imitate a Wombat pose. I won't say it never happens, but it's rare enough that I wish I could sell it on ebay.
To me, the Wombat is sort of a local Cookie Monster. Kids love the Wombat, but they recognize that the critter is wacky and unreal. Even teeny tiny tots somehow realize that if they imitate the Wombat they're going to look like bozos.
The same holds true for Cookie Monster. The vast majority of kids who watch Cookie Monster will not shove fistfuls of cookies into their mouths until they drool crumbs all over themselves. Even their three-year-old peers would say, "Ew! That's gross!" And as much as we would love our kids to shove fistfuls of carrots into their mouths because Healthy Food Monster does it, they ain't gonna comply.
Why would that be?
Okay, let's face the Inconvenient Truth.
Cookies taste better than carrots.
Honestly, which do you grope for when you're stressed -- a carrot or a Hershey Bar? If you picked carrot, you're on a diet because you've eaten too many Hershey Bars.
Let's stop blaming Cookie Monster for our epidemic of childhood obesity. Cookies taste better than carrots, a fact is a fact. That's why my fundie sister asked me to make some cookies for her, instead of sending her a pretty tin full of carrots.
How can we cure the epidemic of childhood obesity without dumping Cookie Monster? Well, I could write an epic poem on that topic, but instead I'll just say:
DUMP THE DAMN ABSTINENCE LESSONS IN "HEALTH CLASS" AND PUT THE KIDS BACK IN P.E. WHERE THEY BELONG!
Why is my daughter The Spare learning about abstinence when she should be out in the wind playing kickball? If she gets fat, I know who I'm gonna blame: Focus on the Family!
I defiantly remain committed to the Cult of Cookie Monster. Now if you'll excuse me, there's a savory carrot downstairs just a'callin' my name.