Like many of our adult children with regressive, vacine induced autism, my oldest daughter is, was and I suspect, always will be a Sesame Street girl. Her very first word was "Ober" for Grover monster. She carried a Grover plush that grew to resemble the Velveteen Rabbit, loved so hard he was threadbare but still in her eyes "furry and lovable." I used to mimic his voice for her to make her laugh. And laugh she did, with bright blue eyes focused on me and a smile that was brighter than the Street Lamp with the iconic sign on it.
Last year, the girls and I moved into our own little house. During the move, I had to make a decision. In the cellar, I had bagged and hidden all of my daughter's Sesame Street plush dolls. This included the giant Grover doll her father and I bought in 1996 in a toy shop in Peddlar's Village, in Lahaska, Pennsylvania. Gianna had just been born, and we took Mia out for a big sister dinner while my Mom watched Miss G at home. I remember thinking that Grover was so expensive. Little did I know he'd be a mainstay in our lives for more than 20 years. We got our money's worth and then some. We also had a giant Big Bird, purchased at Sea World in Cleveland in 1999. Another splurge for my girls.
I threw away the bag of plush. Goodbye Grovers, goodbye Big Bird, Ernie, Bert and Elmo. All of them. I threw them away.
I know that in order to move my kids forward, sometimes I have to be tough and - move them forward. My daughter now looks at old Sesame Street CD-ROM games regularly on YouTube. Where there's a will, there's a way.
My brother was born in 1970. We watched this 1974 episode of Sesame Street together, and I've seen it with my girls many times on Sesame Street Classics. Take a look at John John who appears at the end. He grew up. He has a career. He'll have a family. Maybe he'll watch Sesame Street on HBO with his own children. But probably not forever. Kim