Super Why

I’m not sure if you’re familiar with ‘Super Why.’ It’s a kid’s show on PBS, and it’s one of Paige’s favorites (although it rarely makes it into the rotation onto the TV, since we don’t have it on that often).

These are the characters, and they all have “super powers” that have to do with literacy and reading. Princess Presto can spell and Pig can “build” words (hence the tool belt). Little Red Riding Hood is part of their crew, but I’m about 99% sure it’s because they feel sorry for her. To date, she has no super powers I can identify, except that she has mad skills on those roller blades (yes, I spend a considerable about of time analyzing these shows. See what a good parent I am? What with my judging Little Red and all?).
Whyatt is the main character, and he has the power to change stories. Each episode the crew “jumps” into a story to get clues to help them solve their own real life problem. Well, not necessarily a ‘real life’ problem, since they live in Storybook Village. Oh, and since they’re cartoon characters.
Stay with me people, I promise this is going somewhere.
So, occasionally Whyatt has to step in because a character in a story wants to change, but can’t. For example, the Giant doesn’t want to throw tantrums, but it’s part of his story. The Big Bad Wolf doesn’t want to blow down houses, but it’s part of his story. They all say “But Whyatt, it’s in my story. What should I do?”
Ahem. Wow. That was a LOT of time spent writing about this kid’s show. Thank God I went to graduate school. Money. Well. Spent.
So, the other day a friend of mine came over and brought goodie bags for both of the girls. They were so cute, and they had tons of fun Halloween stuff inside: candy, tattoos, spider rings … did I mention candy?
Because Paige mentioned candy. About 800,000 freaking times. Before bed that night. And starting during breakfast the next morning (which, mind you, is around 6:30 am). 
Obviously I DIDN’T give her candy after breakfast, but by the time 10:00 am rolled around my patience was wearing VERY thin with her questioning (seriously – someday this girl could interrogate terrorists. She’s THAT good at wearing you down until you snap).
“Paige!,” I yelled calmly said. “I am serious. If you ask for candy one more time, we are putting every last bit of it into the trash can. And you will be helping me throw it away.” (Seems harsh, I know. But that seems to be the only tactic that works with this girl.)
There was a pause, so I thought the conversation was over. I ran upstairs to hide went to put away laundry and a minute or two later Paige walked into my room.
She looked at me with those cute pink glasses and gave me one of her big, missing-tooth smiles.
“Yes, honey?” I said.
“But, Mommy. It’s part of my story. It says, ‘Paige keeps asking for candy.’ What do I do?”
I stared at her open-mouthed for what I can only image was about half an hour. I then gave her a little pat on the head and turned around so she couldn’t see me laughing. While biting my cheek to keep from smiling I told her that we would just have to change her story.
Well-played, Miss Paige. Well-played.

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