Life Lessons from a Kid’s Show

The number one thing "Bluey" reminded me about the world.

Credit: Photo by Cristian Escobar on Unsplash.

Have you ever noticed the way the world sparkles? How pavement glistens in the sun or reflected light dances off the surface of water or a bright day twinkles through the dew on leaves? What about when autumn leaves shake in the wind and shimmy like jazz fingers against the hand of the tree that holds them?

These are the types of things I notice more now that I’ve started looking for them. I don’t know exactly when that happened, but it might have something to do with the fact that my baby Bean is a master of observation.

If something is out of place in the living room, E. will point it out. If there’s a plane or helicopter somewhere in the vicinity, E. will wave and scream “BYEEEE” up to the heavens. She points out every bike on the Beltline, says hello to every dog she encounters, roars at the lion statue outside the Shake Shack near our entrance to the city-wide walking path.

Bean delights in noticing the little things, as they aren’t all that small in her mind, and I delight in them, too. Her curiosity becomes contagious, her wonder begets my wonder as well.

This ability to be in awe of everyday happenings is a characteristic I’m keen to foster in my small child. It comes naturally to her now, but that’s true of all of us in the beginning. Many of us lose this inclination toward amazement as we age. Only some of us become interested in getting it back, usually much later in life.

I don’t have the solution for how to make this childlike reverence for our surroundings stick with us through adolescence and adulthood and middle age and the golden years. There doesn’t seem to be a trick, other than vigilance, mindfulness, perpetual reminders about the power of presence.

Bean doesn’t need to make this kind of effort now, but I do. I must always surround myself with metaphorical Post-it notes that pull my mind back from the to-do lists and worries and tasks that aren’t going to accomplish themselves. But even if E. has it all figured out, that doesn’t mean there isn’t room to encourage and reinforce the bits of childhood that are enviable to those who are long past that stage of life.

That’s the biggest reason why I’m picky about the programs I let my kid watch on TV. I only allow two: Blue’s Clues and Bluey. Don’t read too much into the fact that both feature blue female dogs as their leads, although I love that these girls embody the main-character energy I want E. to take with her as she grows up. Plus, E. loves dogs. This love was partially thrust upon her due to us having three since before she was born, but she’s risen to the occasion. Before bed each night, she gives each of the three a kiss (much to Frodo’s dismay).

But the reason I stick with these shows is that their messages are powerful (and also, they aren’t annoying—and this is a big one. Daniel Tiger got his ass banned for too many bullshit two-line songs that play on repeat in your mind until your brain eats itself in attempts to find relief). Blue’s Clues reminds kids that they’re smart, that they can figure things out, that they can do the things they set their mind to.

But the queen of kids shows is Bluey, and if you’re not familiar, I highly recommend looking it up because it’s one of my favorite shows, too. It’s developed by the Australian government and broadcast by the BBC. It follows a family of Heelers, Bandit and Chili with their daughters Bingo and (of course) Bluey, as they navigate school and work and life and just trying to make it to the weekend. Sometimes in the mornings, I ask Bean if she wants to watch Bluey, just so I can watch it. That’s how good it is.

And like all the best shows for kids, there are deeper meanings (and hilarious jokes) for adults. I can rattle off at least three episodes that have made me cry right off the top of my head: “Baby Race,” “Cricket” and “Onesies.” But there are a million beautiful lessons across the three seasons (and extras) that we have access to on YouTube TV. Messages about bravery, resilience, kindness, friendship, the need for mamas to occasionally have 20 minutes where no one talks to them.

We learn that even parents make mistakes and sometimes life deals us a hand that feels unfair. We learn how to manage our big emotions and that it’s important to find and use our voice. We learn to do “the done thing,” even when it doesn’t feel like the thing we really want to do. All these messages are inherently valuable. But the greatest lesson of all, in my humble (but completely unchangeable) opinion, is bestowed in an episode called “Camping.”

In “Camping,” the Heeler family spends time in the wilderness roughing it. One day, Bluey finds herself alone, and begins building a house of sticks out in the woods. This is where she meets another dog named Jean Luc, who only speaks French, a language Bluey does not know. Despite the language barrier, the two become quick friends. They finish the stick house, plant a seed, catch a wild sanglier and play from daybreak until dinner time. After three days of fun, Bluey is distraught to find that Jean Luc and his family have left for home.

Bluey is upset about this. She misses her friend and asks her mum Chili why they couldn’t keep playing. Chili explains that some special people only come into our lives for a short time, and while it is sad when they go, the time when they were with us was happy—and maybe that really does make it all worth it. That’s when Bluey asks the big question: Does Chili think Bluey will ever see Jean Luc again? And Chili gives the best, most beautiful answer: She wouldn’t rule it out. “The world is a pretty magical place.”

At the end of the episode, we see several years go by. The seed the friends planted grows into a tree, and Bluey, now a teen, rests underneath it, reading a book. That’s when someone calls her name. Jean Luc appears, and their tails wag at the joy of being reunited. Cue the tears. Yeah, OK, fine. I ALSO cry at this one.

But how gorgeous is that? If there’s anything I want my baby Bean to take with her into adulthood it is the message that the world is a magical place. I want her to know that because it’s true, and it is essential that we remember. There is evidence of this all around, from the sidewalk sparkles to the dancing leaves. Our only job is to keep looking for it and believing. Because when we do, that trust in an endlessly enchanted world will be validated at every turn.

With pleasure,
Bored Aquarian

P.S. Thanks for being here! If you have a moment, would you mind liking, commenting, sharing or restacking this post? Only if you enjoyed it, of course. I appreciate your help spreading the word about my work. And please remember one more thing: The world is also magical because you’re a part of it.