Dora Ain’t Gangsta

Captain’s Log. Daddy Chronicles. Diaper Date 1587.  My road touring vessel is a fine machine.  Mrs. Captain found it in Craigslist and I pursued and executed the deal.  It is a nicer vehicle than what I could normally afford – leather seats, heated seats, moon roof, Dvd player, etc.  It even has a tape deck so I can go old school and play those mixtapes I still have from the early 90’s.

I really have one complaint.  I keep a lot of music on my smartphone.  I bought a $4 cord from Walmart to play my phone through the car stereo system….and it bumps. Great sound. Great bass. Though my car was originally marketed by Celion Dion, it still has some street cred simply because of the sound system. 
Now the eldest loves it because she can watch shows while we go on long trips.  We like it because she can watch shows on long trips.  The problem? Only her DVDs are in my car. Dora, Elmo, you name it. This normally isn’t an issue.  Then one day it happens. 

I love my music. It gets me ready for the day and when you teach middle schoolers some days it is like being a football player running through that tunnel before a game.  You have to psych yourself up.  Loud music.  Music with heavy bass.  I prefer a little L.L. Cool J or a little Public Enemy (on days that I’m feeling a little rebellious).

So the other morning I am matriculating to work, listening to my music, getting my game face on.  I’m right around the corner from school when it happens –  L.L. disappears. There’s a pause.

The instramental opening is unmistakable.  It is ingrained in my very soul.

The triumphant horns are followed by a voice.

“Are you ready to explore?!?”

No. This is not happening. This. Is. Not. Happening.  You know that moment when you have to decide which is more important – driving or eliminating the helpless juvenile who is friends with a monkey and a talking map.  I chose not to be a distracted driver. I just drove. I didn’t want to be the subject of a news headline, “Teacher crashes car while listening to Dora DVD. News at 11.”

I find Dora grating under normal circumstances, but at the high decibels I was absorbing it was beyond fingers on a chalkboard.  It was a form of torture they should use on terrorists. 

Side note – why does she always need my help? Here’s a thought Dora – do it yourself! If you can’t do it then ask your monkey that wears boots, or your talking map or your McGyver-esque backpack (seriously – “I’m the thing that’s loaded up with things and knicknacks, too? Anything need I’ve got inside for you.”) 

But, I am done enabling you. And leave my kid alone. Whew. Sorry, but that felt good. Liberating.  You should try barking at a cartoon sometime.

So I pulled into school bumping Dora.  Luckily, no one saw or heard. Or at least they haven’t started making fun of me…yet. In the meantime, I believe I need to invest in a new adapter for my phone.  Wonder where I can get one? Can you say “backpack”?

Captain out.