A few weeks ago, The Wonder Place, our local kid’s playplace-extraordinaire, celebrated their first anniversary.  We braved the long lines (they had to cut off the line when they reached maximum capacity) to take Harry.  Radio Disney DJ-ed the celebration and there was a celebrity guest appearance.

By Elmo.

Actually, by a very small adult in one of the worst Elmo suits I have seen lately.

But that didn’t matter to Harry.  Elmo’s entrance was greeted with all the awe of the second coming. 

My son turned into an Elmo groupie bordering on obsessed stalker.   I don’t think the poor Elmo-clone could get two feet without Harry grabbing him, jumping on him, or pulling his fur, with a constant excited refrain of squeals and “ELMO, MY ELMO!”

 At first I was mortified.  But there’s nothing like being in the shared company of equally chagrined parents to dull the embarrassment. 

Harry still managed to find the time to:

 Get stuck,

Get wet,

Get high,

Get dressed,

Get away,

And get dinner,

All in the process of his search and destroy Elmo mission.

So, just sing with me:

La, la, la, la…

La, la, la, la…

If you’re a parent, you know the rest…