I hate Dora.
(I know. What a great opener, huh?)
She makes me crazy. She's too yelly, she asks obvious questions, she rarely blinks, she's pretty helpless... and what kind of parents let their pre-schooler run around in the jungle with only a bug-eyed monkey for a babysitter? Irresponsible.
I managed to avoid Dora entirely with the first two Bees. The Boy was a big fan of Elmo, and dinosaurs, and really, we rarely watched TV. The Girl fell fast and hard for Abby Cadabby, and that was alright with me. But for some unknown reason, The Baby loves Dora. I mean, loooooves her.
But she's not so great at opening bedroom doors.
(Awesome segue, me. I'm really on fire with the doing of the writing today.)
So, a few days ago when The Baby shut herself in her brother's room, she stared shouting.
She has a tendency to yell incoherent words and phrases, loudly and often, so I wasn't certain I heard her correctly.
Until she did it again.
Ayúdame! Help me! I am in! this! roooom!
So, I think I can start telling people that The Baby is bilingual, right? Because having a bilingual child is just so much better than having a kid who zombs out in front of the television when cartoons are on.