It’s old news that my boys are currently addicted to In The Night Garden. From my “Apparently Shopping Makes Me Cry” post:
“Yes, it’s the seizure-inducing, suicide-pondering, freakishly cultish ‘In the Night Garden’. My boys LOVE the show. Conveniently on at 8:00pm (just before the boy’s bedtime), we’ve been allowing them to cuddle up on our bed to watch the nightly episodes. Often, by the time the credits roll, they’re both sweetly sound asleep.”
Tragically, the “night” garden also airs in the morning.
And that’s exactly how I found myself introduced to the foul-mouthed rantings of a Tombliboo. Earlier today, I was at my breaking point with the boys. After taking turns dragging each other across the floor by the hems of their pants (thanks for polishing the hardwood hun), poking eyes, stealing cars and screaming like banshees, I decided an early lunch was in order. I dumped Reid in his booster seat, ordered Ryder to sit at the kitchen table, and proceeded to heat up my mom’s famous chicken stew.
I also turned on the television, praying my home could be whine-free for the whole 5 minutes it took to get lunch on the table. I was surprised to see that In the Night Garden was on at 11:00am, but since both boys instantly fell into a Ninky Nonk trance, I decided to count my blessings and turn up the volume.
Moments later, as I was about to place Ryder’s lunch in front of him, my arm froze in mid air.
I heard something.
Coming from the television.
It sounded like a Tombliboo.
And it appeared that he had said… “Shut The F*ck Up”.
It couldn’t be.
Of course not.
So I proceeded to deposit Ryder’s lunch on the table… and then, I heard it again:
“Shut The F*ck Up!”
Wha-wha-whaaaaaaat???? Thankfully, due to the magic of YouTube, I was able to find the episode and attempt to confirm if I had indeed heard a Tombliboo drop the F-Bomb.
YOU be the judge. Listen at 1:53 and 2:01. Or watch the whole thing, if you’re feeling particularly self-loathing.