What We're Watching: Doc McStuffins

"Doc McStuffins" (Disney Junior) There comes a time in parenthood when you realize you have more in common with your child than you may have originally thought. For instance, you like the same television shows. This happened with me and my dad when we starting watching Knots Landing together religiously. Who knew, right? (Don't judge.) And now it's happened with me and Peanut with Doc McStuffins.

I am  obsessed with this show. I have become the child. As a result, I am an enabler, pushing Doc McStuffins on Peanut like a doting grandmother who keeps giving a fat kid cake. (I've always wanted to use that analogy.)

If you don't know the premise, here goes: Doc is a 6 year-old girl who wants to be doctor when she grows up (bonus), like her mom (double bonus). She treats her sick or broken stuffed animals and toys. They come to life, she gives them a check-up, diagnoses and cures them. All in 11 minutes. She's also adorable. Oh, and the songs are catchy too. (And addictive.)

Peanut only gets a half hour to an hour of television a day, and Doc McStuffins has quickly shot to the top of the charts. It debuted in March on Disney Junior, and in very little time has became part of our routine. We sing the songs when it's not on. We talk about our favorite characters at the dinner table. While I admit I've subtly (ok not so subtly) pushed it on Peanut, she loves it too. (Perhaps even more than me.) Besides providing an excellent role model, a positive message, and catchy tunes, the show is funny. Her toys are great supporting characters. My favorite is Hallie, a hippo with a southern accent who plays Doc's nurse and drops lines like, "That bed is lumpier than a lima-bean lollipop." (I don't even know what that means but I love it.)

Hallie: hippo, nurse, comic genius

Something similar happened with me and Elmo's World on Sesame Street. I was hooked. What crazy pun is that furry little rascal gonna throw at me next? Now I'm the same way with Doc McStuffins. She's cuter than Elmo. She's smarter than Elmo. She's independent and a problem solver. Perhaps most important, she's not Hello Kitty or Strawberry Shortcake.

Thanks, Doc, for helping to soften the blow from when Peanut stopped watching Sesame Street. It wasn't long ago. I wrote about that here.

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The Monster at the End of This Post

"Where there is life, there is hope." -Grover Monster, Sesame Street


Children will spring tough questions on you the instant you're awake. They don't care. Thus was the case this past Saturday morning. My wife allowed me to sleep in while she took the Peanut downstairs. It was actually 9:15 am when I finally awoke and I was a little panicked that I had slept so long.

I was standing in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to work the Keurig and get myself some coffee. (As if I don't use it every day)., That's when my daughter came running in and sprang this one on me: "Daddy, what Sesame Street (character) is your favorite?"

Immediately, my brain went into hyperdrive. Dangerous when it hasn't had coffee yet. I didn't want to get this one wrong. My answer would speak volumes about me, my personality, and how my daughter perceives me now and in the future. I am not overreacting. Ok, maybe a little.

No Cookie for you

So I shuffled through the characters on imaginary flash cards in my mind. Cookie Monster. I love Cookie Monster. He's hilarious. And he's blue - my daughter's favorite color. I can score cheap points if I just say Cookie Monster and move on to the coffee, purely for the blue factor. But I can't in my right mind endorse Cookie Monster. He's an unhealthy, impulsive eater and speaks poor English.

Next?

Kick the can, buddy

Oscar? He's green... my favorite color.... thus completing his list of redeeming qualities, Actually, Oscar is honest. There is something to be said about that. There was actually a point when I was younger where Oscar was my favorite. I had a talking plush Oscar doll that said things like, "have a yucky day" when you pulled its string. But he lives in a garbage can and he's not very nice. Not the vibe I want to send to my daughter. He's out.

How about Bert or Ernie? Well, Bert's a buzzkill with a unibrow. And Ernie's annoying. And there are too many questions surrounding their relationship. I understand they're a Muppet version of The Odd Couple, but how old are they supposed to be? Are they kids? Teens? If so, where are their parents? Are they adults? If so, why do they share a room? Are they gay? Doubt it. None of my gay friends would be caught dead in those hideous stripes and saddle shoes.

The Odd Couple

Regardless, Ernie is a nightmare of a roommate. And Bert's no charmer either. All he does is read and sleep and complain when those two activities are being interrupted. If Bert finds Ernie so irritating, why doesn't he just move out? Too many questions for me to consider one of them my favorite.

No and No

I do love the Count. Although, there's the whole vampire thing. And he's a little OCD with all the counting. So count him out. (Sorry I couldn't resist.)

Elmo? He's become a cliche'. Plus, he's too self-absorbed, even for me. Who talks in the third person that much? He's out. And Big Bird is a big baby and a little clueless.

Your old pal, Grover

So how did I answer? I told her GROVER. Lovable. Neurotic. Adorable. Bumbling. Silly. Always wants to help. Never really knows how. He's not perfect. But he is blue... filling the favorite color quotient.

Grover does have a superhero alter-ego. Although, he is always running into walls or falling down. But he's an optimist, and he makes my daughter laugh. He's always there when you're in trouble, ready to pitch in. So what if he's a little neurotic. That's just another thing to love about him. Right?

*As you may already know, the title to this post refers to "The Monster at the End of This Book," a classic Grover tale that is by far my daughter's favorite iPad book/app. Highly recommended.


One time I didn't like my daughter's character of choice, but found the silver lining. Click here to read more.

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Having a Field Day

"Do what you can with what you've got wherever you are." -Theodore Roosevelt

Dads really have no idea what they're doing. We just make it up as we go along. We improvise. We deal. We don't game plan. Yet, we are key players in the game.

So key that I found myself acting as chaperone on my daughter's recent field trip to a local farm. Me. Chaperone. Most days, I'm the one who needs supervision. Not only was I in charge of my own child, but they assigned me to another person's child as well. I guarantee you I would have been one of the last people this little girl's parents would have chosen to watch their child for bus rides to and from a farm, and all of the animal hijinx that would ensue in between.

So I asked myself, "How would I want someone to treat my child if me or my wife were not on this field trip?" The answer provided me with my marching orders. And from that point on, I made sure this little girl (and mine of course) had the best time possible. Laughing, smiling, giggling were mandatory.

I had three rules: stick together, have fun, be nice. Pretty simple. Hey, I'm a simple guy. So simple, in fact, that I came on this field trip with nothing except the lunch I was told to pack. Oh, and I had a pair of my daughter's mittens in my jacket pocket just in case. Not even a camera, which is why no corresponding pictures accompany this post.

As we exited the bus and awaited our hay ride to the farm itself, I noticed a couple of the mothers on the trip handing out snacks to the kids they were watching. They had planned ahead. In fact, they were all carrying overloaded backpacks filled with supplies. My daughter saw that it was apparently snack time, and so did our new little friend. Almost simultaneously they both turned to me and said, "I want a snack!"

Uhhhhh.....

"Daddy didn't pack any snacks... we'll have to wait until it's time to eat lunch." Yeah, not so much with the waiting. Whining commenced until one of the moms who came armed with the snacks offered me a ziplock bag full of honey pretzels. Prepared... and nutritious. This is apparently no time for amateurs. No camera. No snacks. No clue. I had to step up my game. Play to my strengths. I had to compensate for my lack of field trip experience. I had to be the playful idiot.

So I shouted, "Are we gonna see a hippo?!" And the girls answered my ridiculous question with an amused, "Noooooooo!"

"A rhinoceros?"

"Noooooooo!"

"A dinosaur?!"

"Nooooooo!"

"Is Elmo going to be on this farm?!"

"Nooooooo!"

"What? Elmo doesn't live here?!"

And it continued... from pen to pen. From the baby chicks to the rabbits to the pigs to the cows to the horses to the turkeys. The playful idiot got the laughs. He even won over the other, more prepared parents. He even might have changed the minds of some of the disapproving teachers and school administrators. "You seem to be having such a good time," one of them remarked to me as we danced our way from the goats to the llamas.

We walked like chickens in the chicken coup. We shouted "These turkeys are making me hungry" in the turkey pen, and subsequently asked where they keep the sweet potatoes. We fed goats. We pet everything on four legs. We milked a cow for cryin' out loud. Moo.

We even peed in port-a-potties. Now that's a field trip in itself. And quite a bonding experience too. My daughter didn't mind at all. "Daddy," she noted, "it smells nice in here."

That's what a ridiculously good time we had. Even the crap on this trip didn't stink.

I might be armed with more tools of the parenting trade the next time I am called upon to chaperone a field trip. But I learned that all I need to succeed is one thing: me. The playful idiot.

Not all of my interactions at daycare are as pleasant. As I wrote here.

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