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The Goddess Speaks
WHEN the television commercial promoting Sesame Street Live first appeared on our television screen, I did what any rational parent would do. I lunged for the TV remote in a desperate attempt to change the channel. Next stop,
the Elmo Zone!It was too late. My 4-year-old son Alex had already worked himself into a jumping, flailing, screaming, Elmo-induced hysteria. "ELMO! ELMO! I WANT TO GO SEE ELMO!" he cried.
Damn those marketing gurus on Sesame Street!
My husband Bill and I are no strangers to the annual visit from Sesame Street Live. We've experienced what I call the "Elmo Zone" before. Been there, done that, could not afford the T-shirt, the exorbitant tickets, the crowded Blaisdell parking lot, the overpriced souvenirs ... . Plus, an arena full of squirming infants, toddlers and preschoolers does not make for a pleasant outing. These are some of the reasons we kept putting off Alex's increasingly urgent requests to attend the performance.
Then, peer pressure reared its ugly head.
"Dallas and Brent and Rachel are going to see Elmo," Alex earnestly informed us after coming home from school one day.
We caved in. We did not want our son to be the only child in Mrs. Chinen's class who did not get to see Elmo.
Because a trek to the Elmo Zone is an expensive proposition, we told Alex he could only have one parent go with him. "I choose Mommy!" he said without hesitation as my husband gestured, "YES!" and did a little victory dance. Bill would rather spend a Saturday morning soothing our screaming 7-month-old daughter than step into the Elmo Zone again.
"Wonderful!" I replied with all the cheerfulness I could muster through clenched teeth.
ON the morning of the big day, Alex and I arrive at Blaisdell Arena after spending 25 minutes in gridlock on Kinau Street. Hundreds of mini vans and SUVs are in front of us, seemingly drawn to the Blaisdell parking lot by some magnetic force.
By the time we officially enter the Elmo Zone, the show has already started. Alex's face glows when he sees his favorite "Sesame Street" characters dancing on stage. This is worth all the cost and hassle.
But this "priceless" moment lasts only about 20 minutes. Alex keeps asking, "Is it over yet?"
The show lasts another 60 minutes. In the meantime, a harried mother sitting behind us scolds her son for the 10-millionth time. "Ishmael, please sit down!
"Ishmael, please don't kick the chair!
"Ishmael, please get back here!" With a weary sigh, she turns to her husband and says, "This show is too long!"
It's not even intermission yet.
Fortunately, I survive another journey to the Elmo Zone, wallet empty but sanity intact. Tickets, parking, souvenirs (yes, I caved in to that too), and post-show lunch cost me $50.
I know my son will eventually outgrow his annual Elmo fix. Then my daughter will be working herself up into that jumping, flailing, Elmo-induced hysteria. My husband owes me that one.
Laurie Moore is director of communications
at the Hawaii Credit Union League.
The Goddess Speaks runs every Tuesday
and is a column by and about women, our strengths, weaknesses,
quirks and quandaries. If you have something to say, write it and
send it to: The Goddess Speaks, the Honolulu Star-Bulletin, P.O.
Box 3080, Honolulu, 96802, or send e-mail
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