Dear Yo Gabba Gabba,

I wanted to apologize for yelling at you yesterday. I know you were just providing your usual snack time entertainment. You see, my daughter was choking on a piece of bagel and I was smacking her back trying to get it out. You didn’t seem to care. Foofa was singing some happy song while my whole world was crumbling down.

I mean, you can see why I screamed, “Shut up, Foofa!” wanting to choke her with her flower petal neckwear. I know the show must go on. There are other children watching and you don’t want anyone to get alarmed. You can’t have DJ Lance Rock put the toys back in the brief case until Kevin’s baby breathes again. That would ruin other parents’ days.

But would it have been too much to ask to alter the programming to keep going to both entertain others and help me? Maybe Community’s Donald Glover and Danny Pudi can come on for a dancey dance called the Infant Heimlich. Or maybe Mark can draw a magic picture of a choking baby that he can then smack on the back when he goes in the frame. I’m just spitballing here.

Meanwhile I had to ignore your inconsiderate continuation with the peppy music. I threw my daughter over my shoulder and hit her back for all it was worth. She eventually puked all over me. I’ve never been so happy to be puked on. I made it through the most horrible moment of my life no thanks to you.

I guess I’m getting away from my apology. It was the heat of the moment and you didn’t deserve to be yelled at. As a parent, it’s my job to get through crises without the aid of Nick, Jr. I’m just glad you didn’t have a kid come on and say, “I’m Mackenzie. I like to breathe.”

Sincerely,

Kevin Tor