I left home for twenty minutes last night, just long enough to run a quick errand. When I returned, this is what I found on the television:
That's right -- my family took advantage of my absence and went to the On Demand menu, selected Boobah, and they were (gulp) watching it.
I am an avid Boobah hater. I hate, hate, hate Boobah. I don't care that it's supposedly a scientifically advanced children's program designed to increase the viewer's intellect and make them grow up to be artists and concert pianists and Nobel Peace Prize winners -- I hate the show. And I think my kids are pretty darn special without it.
So I walk into my own house to find that my own children have betrayed me in this horrible manner, and that my husband actually let them. What made it even worse -- Benjamin, my darling two-year-old, was dancing and laughing and giggling, loving every minute of it. He has joined the dark side!
Well, of course I couldn't turn the show off -- he was enjoying it too much. So for an entire hour last night, I had to endure the stupid, insipid, furry little dancing thingies with huge eyes and no mouths and the eerie, disembodied voice calling out "Booooobaaaaaah" which is, apparently, their alien master who they must obey.
If Benjamin wasn't so darn cute, they would not have gotten away with this flagrant "I Hate Mommy" demonstration.
If you're interested in some previous documentation of just how much I hate the show, click here.