I hate Barney.

I’m sure that to his fans, the purple dinosaur is a loveable guy, a real regular Joe. But the public broadcast quality taping of his Purpleness and his co-stars playing in perfect diversity, singing his “I love you, you love me” ode to free love in that annoying “my sinuses are all clogged up with goop” nasal twang has always rubbed me the wrong way.

Thank God, even the youngest of my boys have kicked Barney to the curb (along with the Teletubbies, Iggle Piggle and Caillou!) and only mention Barney on rare occasions, but remembering Barney usually compels them to sing (to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle):
Barney is my enemy, Barney is my enemy
Stick a pickle up his nose,
Pull the trigger, there he blows,

You get the picture, we all hate Barney.

Now, finally, I get to rule the iPod in my car again. No more requests for Barney, Raffi or the Pokemon show theme song, just my music. As a woman in the throes of my mid-life crisis, Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream has significant poignancy for me right now, best felt at a volume of 18 or higher. My kids love her too. My kids and I can often be spotted en route to school with the bass booming in my Honda Pilot, screaming the words to her song.

YOU. MAKE. ME.
feel like I’m living a
TEEN. AGE. DREAM.
the way you turn me on
I. CAN’T. SLEEP
let’s run away and don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back!

Until one day, my 4 year old joined in on the chorus,
Let’s go all the way tonight
No regrets. Just love
We can dance, until we die
We’ll be young forever

Let you put your hands on me
In my skintight jeans
Be your Teenage Dream tonight

Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Oh my God, what have I done! Bring back their innocence!

Bring back Barney!!

Love Lucie