When the kids were in their midget-y phase, they used to watch this animated BBC show about a train called Chuggington, and all his trainyard friends.
In the particular version of the series my kids watched, the in-charge trains would give the new trains a bunch of tasks they had to complete by the end of the show…or DIE!!! Ha, ha, ha. The BBC would never put on a show where trains died. That’s dumb. But what ISN’T dumb is a show where there are trains-in-training who have to get badges for every successfully accomplished training task. (For the record, there were some close calls. Think crumbling suspension bridges and so forth; all very thrilling for midget-y folks.) Once the trains-in-training earned enough badges they were called ‘scouts’ and turned into real boys and girls.
No, stop. Who knows what was really going on there. What I mostly wanted to say about the show is that at the beginning and end of each episode, all the trains would get together and shout, “BAD PLAN, CHUGGINGTON!” Yes, that did seem odd.
Eventually, we realized they were yelling “BADGE QUEST, CHUGGINGTON!!!” Oh. That makes more sense. But that’s what happens when a bunch of creepy, rolly-eyed trains shout together in unison about their Badge Quests. It sounds like a Bad Plan. Chuggington.
So in our house, from there on in, anything that was clearly a bad idea from the get-go, receives a “Bad Plan, Chuggington,” verdict.
Sissy in IKEA jumping on a bouncy toy for the 2-and-under set that she shouldn’t have been jumping on because she’s…not 2-and-under? Hits it wrong and goes flying backward, lands on her rump, then proceeds to completely open-mouth wail in pain as she’s sprawled on the ground.
Yep. Bad plan, Chuggington.
Hubby carrying a metal bedframe, upright, into a bedroom where the ceiling fan is whirling? Strikes the ceiling fan like some accidental He Man, I have the POWER and shears off a blade-and-a-half from the fan which resulted in a fun, unexpected fan repair project (in addition to the bed repair project already underway).
Uh-huh. You got it. Bad plan, Chuggington.
And just yesterday, I dropped Hubby and Sonny off at church for a pre-mass obligation of Sonny’s. I ran a quick errand then came back to find Sonny with one leg completely bloody from knee to ankle.
Turns out he quickly finished the thing he had to do, so while they waited for me out in front of church, Hubby chatted on his phone while Sonny did parkour all over the cement steps, planters, ramps etc. One step was a “bit higher” than Sonny expected and his foot got caught as he was leaping like a gazelle. This resulted in an unexpected slam to the ground and subsequent three-foot skid borne almost completely by his right tibia. Right before church. Right in front of church. Road rash much?
And indeed, you guessed it. Bad plan, Chuggington!
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