making a case for the c-word

BY AMY YELIN

I remember the first time it happened. I was having dinner with some other moms in my neighborhood and someone mentioned the "C" word. It's not the c-word you're probably thinking of, but one even more appalling in the parenting world: Caillou.

At the mere mention of his name, this typically peaceful group of moms turned into an angry mob, talking over each other as they raged.

"Oh, I hate him!"

"Me too!"

"He's so annoying!"

And the most frequent complaint: "He's sooooooo whiny!"

Sensing the atmosphere was too dangerous to reveal my true feelings for the 4-year old Canadian cartoon character, I smiled and nodded along.

Don’t get me wrong. I, too, was skeptical when my kids, ages 2 and 3 at the time, first began watching the show. Although I didn't hate Caillou, or peg him as whiny, I did think the show was odd. I immediately had the same question most adults have when they first encounter the show, which was why is the kid 4 years old and bald?

My husband wondered about this, too. "Is he recovering from cancer?" he asked me over dinner one night.

"Maybe," I said. "I've only seen one episode so far."

After dinner we Googled it, and the answer was no.

According to Chouette Publishing's website (the book series' publisher), Caillou is bald because he represents "all children." He's making the statement (at least according to the website) that being different is OK.

So, OK. The kid is bald. Not a big deal. I mean didn't we all watch Charlie Brown for years as kids? Charlie was pretty much bald except for that one curl of hair on the top of his head and no one had a problem with that, right?

But then there was the music in every Caillou episode.

"I could write those songs," I told my husband over another Caillou-themed dinner conversation. "This morning's song went something like: 'We're driving in the car, car, car. We're going very far far far.' It was so stupid!"

My husband laughed and said, "His parents are weird, too. Why don't they ever get upset about anything? No parents are that calm." Then he added: "Don't you think Caillou's father sounds like a porn star?"

"What?"

"I'm serious. I've heard that voice before! I think he's also a porn star. I keep expecting music to come on in the background when Caillou's dad speaks. Bow-chicka-bow-wow. You know."

I laughed. "Uh, not really sure what you're talking about, but I'll take your word for it."

Still, despite our hesistations, it didn't take long for Caillou to become the number one requested show in our house. Not only was it number one, it had staying power beyond any other kids show -- its allure, to my amazement, outlasted Bob the Builder and Handy Manny by months.

My youngest son, Jonas, would wake up each morning and the first thing he'd say was: "Caillou." He'd take his spot on the living room couch and wait for me to let him choose an episode.

It became our routine, and I didn't think much of it until the morning I walked in and saw the expression on Jonas's face. He was leaning forward on the couch, smiling wide, his mouth half open, his attention completely on whatever Caillou was doing. It was an expression of such rapture that I thought, "How can I not love this show?" Whoever makes my kid happy like that is OK with me!

That evening I expressed my newfound love for Caillou to my husband. "He's really grown on me," I said. "I think I actually kind of like the show."

My husband nodded. "Me too. I like the mom. Especially when she wears those tight pants with her snow boots."

We laughed.

That's right. As disturbing as this might sound, Caillou was no longer just a TV show for us, but a phenomenon that permeated our entire household.

When I wore my snow boots and jeans my husband would come up close to me and whisper, "You look hot. Like Caillou's mom."

When either of my sons got frustrated with a new toy, I'd say, "Remember on Caillou? The song?" And then I'd break out in a rendition: "Practice makes perfect, that's what I say. Practice makes perfect every day."

At work, I'd even find myself singing Caillou songs like "It's a Happy Day" and my mood would instantly improve at the thought of my husband and kids dancing around the living room.

You're probably horrified by now, I know.

But trust me: you can't fight Caillou. You won't win. He was created by child development psychologists, and they know what makes our kids tick. Kids love him because he's like them. He's "real" and not some talking hammer, bulldozer, dog or monkey. He goes through the same issues our children are facing, sometimes gets frustrated and, yes, whiny, but he always comes out on top.

So to those moms out there who despise the "C" word: I implore you to open your hearts and let go of your rage. Make your life easier and just embrace the kid once and for all. Or as Caillou asks in one of his songs, "Won't you be his friend today?"

Amy Yelin is a mom of two boys and a writer with work in the Boston Globe, Globe Magazine, Literary Mama, Imperfect Parent, and elsewhere. Her blog is: I Had A Mind Once. She can be reached at: amy@yelinwords.com.