Obsession

I'm not usually a conspiracy theorist, but I'm pretty sure that Children's Television Workshop is practicing an insidious form of mind control over babies everywhere. No, I'm not talking about their stealthily teaching letters and number to unsuspecting toddlers. I'm talking Elmo and the subliminal messages to love him that are sent to all children from the moment they exit the womb. There is no other way I can explain the love that has spontaneously sprung up between Otter and the fuzzy red muppet.

My own feelings for Elmo aside (and I quite enjoy the little guy, especially once I learned that he is voiced by a fairly large and imposing looking black dude, which entertains me to no end), I've always been a little disturbed by the cult status the puppet holds in the 2-8 year-old set. There was no Elmo when I was a kid, yet in the last 15 years, he's somehow clawed his way to the top of the Sesame Street food chain, trampling the likes of Grover, Big Bird and even Kermit in his wake.

It can't be as simple as TV exposure - Otter has yet to see one episode of Sesame Street. Attending her first Elmo themed birthday party came and went without any recognition on her part. And Elmo's presence in our house was long limited to one toy that was a hand-me-down from a coworker. For months, Hug Me Elmo (or whatever this model is) hung out, attracting minimal attention.

And then, something imperceptible shifted. I'll never know what it was, but suddenly Otter's night-time routine began revolving around the song Elmo sings when pressing his hand. It goes something like this (sung in his reedy voice to the tune of "Are You Sleeping"):

Elmo loves you, Elmo loves you.

Yes he does. Yes he does.

Show him all your lo-ove,

Give him a big hu-ug.

La la la. La la la.

Now Otter sits and rocks, moaning and whimpering until the song is played again. And again. And again. And just when you think she's had her fill and moved on to something else, Elmo (who's been lying quietly) blurts out "Bye bye!" and the process begins all over again. The only way to break the cycle is to un-velcro Elmo's back and turn him off after the song. And then distract, distract, distract. I'd like to think this is a passing phase, but judging from the overabundance of Elmos at Target, I fear that this is only the beginning.

Not that I have anything against him. He's just so...omnipresent. Back in the day, I had a pull-string Big Bird who talked, and that was as cool as it got. Walk into any toy store today and you will find Elmos who sing, hug, tickle, dance, make you coffee, vacuum and cook. Maybe I should get one for myself...