As the mother of a two year old, I spend a significant amount of time reading the same books over and over and over and then one more time, pleeeeeease mooooooom. I am also subjected to the same television shows for months at a time, before one is cast to the side to make room for the next. Barney was replaced by Angelina the Ballerina (who brought us an unshakable, illogical fear of cats), who was ousted by Caillou. Books have the same rotational pattern, and can be an obsession one week and discarded the next.
Most of the TV shows and books that get the toddler seal of repeating approval are not the newest or flashiest choices on the market. Sponge Bob Square Pants, for example, will catch Darling Daughter's attention, but she has never requested it specifically. But Curious George, who has been around since dirt was new, is a permanent resident in our house.
So I've been pondering what it is about the enduring characters that each generation of children continues to find so appealing. Husby was startled a few months ago when I put down our battered and torn copy of "Harry the Dirty Dog" and announced that the book was not about dogs at all. Harry, a white dog with black spots that got so dirty he became a black dog with white spots, is not really a dog. He represents a young boy, probably between 5 and 7 years old, that runs away from home and plays tag with his friends, hangs out at the railroad station, and slides down coal chutes. He then returns home to a family that doesn't recognize him until they give him a bath and he becomes, once again, a white dog with black spots.
The story is a fantasy that kids can totally relate to. Who wouldn't want to run away from home and do some super fun crazy things that your parents usually don't let do? But what if your family doesn't know who you are when you get back? Yikes. But then, the family realizes that what appears to be a stranger is actually a beloved family member, and everything is just fine at the end. Kid goes free, kid has tons of fun, kid gets home to unexpected rejection but eventually finds recognition. Sounds good, right? The fear of getting separated from your parents is something every child can empathize with, so reading about it happening to a dog allows them the opportunity to experience it from a safe distance. So the story works, and endures. And gets re-read five times a day for months on end. Mystery solved.
Onto Baby Bop, the incredibly irritating green dinosaur that follows Barney around. She is the whiniest incarnation of a three year old girl that could ever be represented on TV, but Darling Child adores her. She will pretend to be Baby Bop for ages, and is transfixed when the little green monster appears on TV. Of course! Baby Bop is just slightly older than Darling Girl, and represents the next stage in the developmental process. Who wouldn't want to watch someone who is playing on the next level up? It shows Darling Girl what is coming up next. The fact that Baby Bop is a green dinosaur and not a human girl is totally irrelevant.
So, what is the deal with Curious George? How old is he supposed to be? Sometimes, he is mature enough to solve sophisticated puzzles like a 10 year old, and sometimes he demonstrates attributes of a much younger child. But he sleeps in a full size bed, can be left alone all day in an apartment by himself and has free access to the entire city like a teenager. And who is The Man in the Yellow Hat? That guy creeps me out. Is he supposed to be the Dad? Confusing. And what about all the supporting characters in the stories that treat George like an adult?
I brought up my concerns about George and The Man at work a week ago or so, to see if anyone else had any insight into exactly what George was supposed to be. My co-workers collectively turned their heads to one side and raised eyebrows at me.
"He's a monkey, Jaime. That's what he is supposed to be."
"Yeah, but that doesn't make sense. Is he a ten year old, a teenager, an orphan or an adopted son?" I was thinking that I hadn't made myself clear.
"No, Jaime, he's a monkey. Just. A. Monkey."
I could tell that I hadn't been able to make my point about enduring characters and how they must appeal to children at a certain level, so I let it go. I recognize the combination of a head tilt, wide eyes and raised eyebrows, and I know it means that people have just added one more thing to the list of crazy things I've said.
But I'm sticking to my argument, that characters that endure resonate with us at a specific level that can cross generations. I'll just be quieter about reasoning it out, that's all.
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