Yesterday, during church, one of the speakers mentioned his deep love for all things related to his, and my, alma mater, Brigham Young University. And I thought, “The poor man, nobody has told him yet.”
I don’t fault him, of course. I had only found out the day before. I was in the car with my sister-in-law, talking about the recent scourge to my existence, Yo Gabba Gabba.
A former BYU student herself, she said, “Yeah, it was a great big deal out there when Nickelodeon picked it up.”
My first instinct was that this might have something to do with the reality that anytime you have a large gathering of youngish Mormons, you are sure to have an equally large gathering of the Gabba target audience (in case you are wondering, yes, we are allowed to use birth control). Even so, I ventured a casual, “Oh? Why?”.
“Oh, because the guys who made it were from BYU,” she told me.
Noooooooooooooooooooo! Say it isn’t so!
I’ve always prided myself on the fact that I attended a university that is difficult to get into and filled with great thinkers.
I feel a little dirty.
Sadly, my attempts to verify proved positive. Well, at least partly so. I haven’t been able to definitely confirm it on the writers, but the producer is definitely a BYU grad. Actually, he is the same guy who produced Napoleon Dynamite (Oh my gosh, Napoleon to Gabba? How’s that for a downgrade?). And, for my LDS readers, he was also involved in The RM, Singles Ward, and a bunch of other movies along those lines.
It’s too bad that silver polish does nothing for paper. My diploma is officially tarnished.
Today, I am Thankful For:
- N’s decision that he just wanted to “get the hard part done” for school this morning. Usually, his phonics lessons end with reading basic stories, which he struggles with. Honestly, he is making a lot of progress with his reading, but by the time we get to it he is frequently antsy and past the point where he is really concentrating as much as he needs to. Today, he decided that he wanted to read the story before doing the lesson. He got through it so much more quickly, the rest of his phonics lesson went better since he knew he had already done the hard stuff, and it was just an all-around happier experience for both of us.
- You know the story in the Old Testament where the widow and her son continue to be able to eat while feeding the prophet Elijah, even though they only had enough meal and oil for one last meal? I swear that happens to me sometimes, but with diapers. I mean, not that there is a prophet involved or anything. But there have been a few times where I didn’t realize that I was almost out of diapers and should need to run out on Sunday, but enough showed up in strange places to pull me through. See? A miracle. Either that, or I just have a bad habit of sticking things where they don’t belong. Anyhow, I’m grateful we made it through until this morning.
- W’s love of learning. The kid is just a sponge. I mean, how many little boys beg to do flash cards? He technically won’t be old enough for kindergarten next year (he misses the cut-off by less than two weeks), but I intend to fight to get him in. Because, honestly? I’m afraid that he’ll be bored with most of the kindergarten curriculum by then, anyhow.
- How “cool” my kids are. Yesterday, when Sean went to pick C~ up from the nursery in church, they were singing “Popcorn Popping in the Apricot Tree” and playing musical instruments. C~ had maracas. Later on, he told Sean, “I told them I wanted to rock, but they wouldn’t let me.” I just hope he didn’t make the horns. I wouldn’t want to have the first two-year-old kicked out of nursery for making the horns. (I swear I wasn’t the one who taught him to do that–that distinction goes to my brother-in-law.)
- “Kids eat free” night at the local pizza buffet. (Although, for those who live close to me, the one by that mall about 15 minutes south seems to have an interesting interpretation of “kids eat free” that the other ones do not.) Between the “free” and a coupon, we fed our family of six (including drinks for the kids) for ten bucks. And the kids had a blast playing air hockey with Daddy. And I didn’t have to cook. See? Joy for everyone.