Frankie, Squeeze My Rubber Duckie!

I'm pretty easy going when it comes to movies, TV and music. When something questionable comes on I don't put my hands over my ears, shut my eyes and sing "la, la, la, la" until I think it's safe  to stop. I have no problem with people who do this unless they tell me that I should do it too. I just choose not to do it because I have a wicked side and I admit it.  I know people who only watch G rated movies and still think they're risque. I am also not one to go purposely looking for problems. When a Christian coalition accused Bert and Ernie of being gay, I rolled my eyes. I roll my eyes a lot which may be why the words on medicine bottles have gotten smaller.

My grandchildren are visiting. The fact that I have grandchildren is causing me panic attacks. When did I get old enough to have grandchildren? My birth certificate says I'm old enough, but I swear this whole thing has snuck up on me. Shouldn't there be warning signs? Like alarm systems that go off screaming "Danger" when you reach certain birthdays? Celebrities my age are having children for the first time. When my first grandchild was born I still had young kids. Is it any wonder that I am in denial about my age and my growing sense of foreboding that I am running out of time and I still haven't made a million, gone to Europe, fit back into normal clothes, or been kissed since...since...see, I've forgotten. Memory loss is a sign of old age.

Anyway, with my grandkids here  the cable channel Treehouse is on all the time. I don't normally watch Treehouse. It wasn't a station that was on when my kids were little. Sure there were kid shows but not on all day and all night for those two year olds who stay up late partying with beer and drugs. It was while I was watching Treehouse that I became perturbed and realized that I am just not mature enough to handle the material that is being presented. During a one hour period I heard these following statements from various kid shows geared to the pre-school crowd.

"Frankie, squeeze my rubber duckie."
"Spread your legs. Now spread your cheeks."
"Dam the puddle."

I was shocked. I wanted to put my hands over my ears, shut my eyes and sing "la, la, la, la". But it was too late. The damage had been done. My psyche had been irreversibly compromised. I had not been prepared for such phrases. In the past I knew I was going into enemy territory when I watched  Sex and the City and so I was prepared for the dangers I would meet there. But this was different.  I thought I was safe and so I had not been careful.  My 12 and 13 year old were affected by it too. "Frankie, squeeze my rubber duckie" has become a catch phrase around here.

A warning out there. Treehouse is like walking through a landmine.