What the World Needs Now is Less Cartoon Network

When my kids were small, there was one noise that never failed to fill me with an overwhelming urge to stab out my eardrums with a seafood fork.

It was the sound of Dora the Explorer on television.

Years later, hearing “Swiper, no swiping!” blare from our television set as the kids flip channels still makes me break out in a cold sweat. Then there’s that song. THAT. DORA. SONG. It goes a little something like this:

“I’m the map,
I’m the map,
I’m the map,
I’m the map.
I’m the map,
I’m the map,
I’m the map,
I’m the map.
I’M THE MAP!”

(I know you’re asking yourself right now, What MUSICAL GENIUS came up with these MASTERFUL LYRICS?)

To this day, “I’m the Map” (I’m assuming that’s the title) gets stuck in my head for days at a time-  I’ve learned the hard way that this particular earworm can only be killed with a double dose of Excedrin Tension Headache chased with Chardonnay straight from the bottle. And while I generally feel a wistful tenderness at the passing of my kids’ childhood milestones, I have to tell you that on the day that the last Ferrier child declared Dora to be ‘lame,’ I sent myself flowers.

As it turns out, the bouquet came years too soon.

Because Dora was quickly replaced by Spongebob, whose nasal voice and grating laughter made Swiper sound like an angel from Heaven. (Say it with me: “Ohhh, MAN!”) Spongebob was so popular in our house that I began to fear he’d become a permanent part of our lives– and that’s right about the time that my daughter discovered Nickelodeon’s Sam & Cat.

Goodbye, Spongebob. Hello, Ariana Freaking Grande.

The Sam & Cat summer wreaked havoc on my sanity, but it also resulted in a spiritual epiphany:

Hell is for real, and this video plays there on a loop:

THANK GOD this girl abandoned acting, is all I have to say. I am entirely convinced that her recording contract was secretly financed by millions of moms who JUST COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE.

Once Sam & Cat went dark, there was peace in our house for several months and I dared to hope that we had finally escaped the Children’s Programming Vortex of Doom. We watched episodes of Andy Griffith and Little House on the Prairie together, where shouting and dumb voices were practically non-existent. And we were happy. So happy.

Little did I know this idyllic time was simply the calm before the storm. Because all too soon, my children happened upon something so insidious, so barbaric, so… loud, that all other kids shows would pale by comparison.

I’m talking, of course, about Cartoon Network.

Now that my kids have discovered the cable channel that must be responsible for more mental institution check-ins than any other, the top three phrases that come out of my mouth each day are as follows:

“Turn that thing down!”

“Time for a screen break!”

“TURN THAT THING DOWN!”

I try to keep my kids’ television viewing to about an hour a day, which really isn’t hard because there are lots of other things they like to do– but IF the TV is on, Cartoon Network is definitely playing, and even in limited doses, THAT SH*T IS ANNOYING AS HELL.

I can’t even name a specific program because as far as I’m concerned, they’re all interchangeable. Uncle Clarence Time, The Adventure Grandpa Show, Regular Teen Gumballs–  All follow the Cartoon Network formula, which includes:

-aggressively abrasive music, performed by someone who seems to have just snorted a giant Pixy Stick.

-dialogue that’s consistently rude and inappropriate, but falls just shy of what you can ban as a parent without feeling like one of the Duggars.

-Screaming. Lots and lots of screaming.

This is just a sample of what’s now the soundtrack of our lives:

What’s worse, my son has somehow figured out how to record Cartoon Network shows on our DVR. Now, every time I want to watch something highbrow and adult like Dance Moms, I have to sort through THIS.

I mean, did you ever?

In an effort to ‘speak my kids’ love language’, I asked them yesterday, “What is it that you like so much about Cartoon Network?”

“It’s weird!” my eight-year-old son said gleefully.

“It’s soooo weird!” my ten-year-old daughter agreed.

“Yah,” my son chortled. “And that’s what makes it SO FUNNY!”

“I just love it!” my daughter giggled.

“Mr. Rogers is weird,” I said with an enticing grin. “He’s REALLY weird. Have you seen that sweater he wears? Why don’t we watch Mr. Rogers instead?”

They both gave me a withering look. The conversation was over.

And so, Mothers of America (Dads, I’m not even going to bother. I’m fully aware you all LOVE Cartoon Network just as much as my kids.), I’m issuing a nationwide warning: If your children haven’t yet been touched by the CN Strain, block Cartoon Network on your TV now–  Once they’ve been sucked in (and it’s only a matter of time- I guarantee), you are in for some serious aural torture, with probable longterm psychological ramifications.

As for me, preventative measures are too late. Instead, I’m stocking up now on Chardonnay and earplugs.

It’s gonna be one long-ass summer.

 

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