Apparently there’s a Barney documentary out.

I have to admit that, before becoming a father, I mocked Barney. Everybody did, really, in the 90s and 2000s. There’s just this general miasma of sarcastic disdain for children’s programming humming in the background of popular culture that is hard to ignore. Some of it is warranted, I guess. It’s fun to mock things. Making fun of stuff is one human trait among many that cuts both ways and can either ease tensions or spin wildly out of control.

Becoming a dad though…

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again and many more times before I die: there is something about a child’s innocent quest for affirmation that just, well, resets you. When a toddler looks up at you with that face that is equal parts curiosity and joy and innocence. When they see something that interests them or piques their curiosity or their excitement about the wider world, or something that triggers their sympathy or empathy, it just washes away one’s cynicism and poses an utterly withering challenge to that default level of disgust and resentment everyone carries with them about other people.

It was such a shock to me that I began to see that look, that innocent, friendly expression asking me “do you see it too, Daddy?” in the faces of every adult I knew, even in photographs of long-dead relatives. I felt as though I was seeing behind the mask of adulthood that everyone assumes is forced upon us by age and experience and that we wear for so long until it isn’t a mask at all to us. I began to have these moments of deep and overwhelming empathy that would almost incapacitate me for a second or two, and sometimes cause me to gently weep. And I began to notice how other adults, some of whom acted as real assholes in their lives in front of me, behaved when meeting small children. I could see their eyes begin to glisten and well up, and I could see that their coos and gentle laughter were really just barely concealed gasps of weeping. Joyous and utterly unguarded delight and pathos shining just beneath the mask.

Our daughter loved Barney and when I’d watch it with her I could see why. Like most of the best of children’s programming it made legitimate efforts to meet kids where they stood, at that stage of innocent, friendly and joyous curiosity about the world, the state the adult world is so afraid of and so eager to ignore or to mock.

I’m not at all surprised if there is a pipeline from Barney hate to legitimate right wing hate. It makes perfect sense that the people compromised in their ability to recognize as good a TV show’s efforts to satisfy their child’s need for affirmation would have difficulty relating to fully grown human beings.