I wanted to hate Elmo. I really did. He wasn't a part of my "Sesame Street" experience growing up -- and yet he now seems to be the star of the long-running PBS show, taking away valuable screen time from Bert and Ernie, Cookie Monster and the Count. (I have no problem with him stealing the show from Big Bird, who I never cared much for, or the humans Bob and David, who honestly I thought were a little too old and single to be hanging around puppets and six-year-olds.)
But a funny thing happened recently. Several of Evan's Christmas and birthday presents were Elmo-related, including the "Dance and Shout Elmo" from his grandparents. And holy crap, I find myself, yes, Dancing and Shouting with Elmo. And enjoying it. I'm even starting to appreciate Elmo's constant use of the third person ("You make Elmo want to shout!") After all, I'm now forever referring to myself as "daddy" in the third person as well. (Most sadly, even increasingly when Evan's not around.)
Elmo, perhaps you and I can forge an understanding after all. Just don't step on Ernie's toes.
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