Back in January, I took issue with one of the many Sesame Street-themed books currently residing on my daughter's book shelf. The book in question was titled Grover's First Day of School and it followed Sesame Street's adorable, globe-trotting monster Grover to his first day of kindergarten. I, like any good father/citizen of the world, called out Grover's First Day of School for its inherent bullshit. I argued that there was absolutely no way that Grover, a character we've watched work in restaurants, operate hotel elevators, travel abroad, and fly through the air with nary a chaperone in sight, was kindergarten-aged. In my opinion, Grover was at least in his mid-20's.
One commenter suggested that I stop thinking about these things and get a life (He didn't write the second part as much as imply it.) Another commenter, well, there was only one commenter, but I get the distinct impression that many more people read my post and thought the same thing: what a rube. Sure, when I devote hours to typing, proof-reading and posting essays about the true ages of fictional monster puppets, it can come across as a little weird or unnecessary. And, yes, maybe I am wasting the precious gift of time that God has granted me and that He can snatch away whenever He sees fit, ruminating on the children's books my wife finds in the Target $1 bin. But this is the life I've chosen, so this is the life I'll live.
Turns out, however, that I was wrong about Grover. He probably isn't in his mid-20's after all. There's also still no way in Muppet Hell that he's a kindergartner either. You see, last weekend, when I was reading Elmo's A-B-C's to my daughter for the third time that morning, I noticed something in the upper right hand corner of the second to last page:
Grover is apparently a doctor! And a bad doctor at that. Why is he standing in an x-ray room wearing nothing but his lab coat and a stethoscope? That can't be good.
C'mon, every author of a Sesame Street book! Why can't all of you get together and establish some ground rules before you run off to your penthouse apartments or your ritzy summer homes in New England or wherever it is fancy writer types write, so we, the readers, don't have to deal with all of these continuity issues. One of these days, my daughter is going to start asking questions, and what am I going to tell her? Huh? "Well, um, honey, you see, uh, Grover is, um, er, uh, a kindergarten student and, um, a, uh, doctor, um, as well. What? Well, sure, I mean, um, I agree that is, um, total horseshit, but, um, er, uh..." Is that what you want to happen, authors?!? Get it together!!!