I'm Going To Be In Real Trouble When He's A Teenager

I was sitting in my living room, having an IM conversation with Oscar when I realized that PBS was no longer playing any of the shows that I don't mind watching with Turtle, but was instead starting the opening credits for Barney. I don't do Barney. I don't let Turtle do Barney. Barney, I prefer to think, does not exist in my space-time continuum. And yet, there he was on my screen, in all of his obnoxious purple perkiness. I ran to get the remote.

"Nooo purple dinosaur. No, no, no, no, no," I said to Turtle as he looked at me, perplexed. "Let's watch the Wiggles instead."

"Noooooooooooooooo!" Turtle wailed. "Di-o-saur! Watch di-o-saur, Mommy!"

I reiterated that we don't do the big purple dinosaur in this house and encouraged him to embrace the Wiggly goodness. Turtle was having none of it. I turned off the television.

"Okay, buddy, if you don't want to watch tv, it's time to take a bath."

"Nooooooo! Don' wan' bath, Mommy!"

"Buddy, you've gotten out of taking a bath all week long. You are getting a bath today."

"No! Mommy! Don' wan' bath!"

"Turtle. You're getting a bath. Let's go."

"But Mommy! It's my birf-day!"

"...."

I....couldn't really figure out what to say to that, not to mention the fact that I was so busy laughing hysterically that it didn't allow much room for rational thought. I mean, how does one argue with that? Even if the birthday in question doesn't technically happen until November? If someone has an answer for me, please let me know, because this kid really is starting to smell bad and his hair can now be formed into any shape you desire without the benefit of product. It's unnatural and it kind of creeps me out.