having grown up in a time and culture where children’s TV programming mainly consisted of DDR propaganda, extremely disturbing PSA’s, and german detective cartoons where every episode contained at least one plotline involving strippers and/or boobs, it’s probably not surprising that i never got to know barney.
i would probably be a lot more pleasant to deal with, a lot less troubled with negative emotions, and a whole heck of a lot less burdening to others today, had i learned very early on that happiness is the only acceptable state of being, disagreeing is futile and disrespective, and your own needs are always infinitely less important than those of others.
again, sad face. but i did learn a lot about boobs.
either way, a while back i offered to make the boy a pair of socks for his birthday, because he has the soul of a pensioner and thus suffers from cold feet (and increasingly greying hair). i even went so far as to let him pick colours.
of all the colours in all the world, he picked barney’s.
to be fair, i rejected his inital choice of the dr. seuss-esque combination of red and white, just because it was in my power to do so.
oh, what a girl wouldn’t do for his love muffin.