Taratabong

My attention was stolen by the musical notes dancing in step with the golden character hiding behind a striped protrusion that resembled that of a formation in Dr. Seuss’s world. “Hello, Trumpy!” the narrator greeted the animated trumpet. I hadn’t noticed that I was watching wide eyed, glued in place, frozen in an unnatural position leaning towards the kitchen but attention paid elsewhere.

There is something about children’s cartoons that I am not immune to. I think they’re designed to appeal to some primal instinct so kids might actually hold still, allowing parents a precious moment to do other things, like dishes, which I think I was going for until this phenomenon happened. Trumpy’s brother Snarey came on the screen, and his animated walk was captivating. “I love how they made the snare drum move,” I remarked to Alice. She might word a few observations to the Girls as the story progressed, but aside from my one remark I was stuck. Just as I was able to pry myself from the world of Taratabong and turn back to my task, a new character was introduced. First the mom, then Pino, then my thoughts drifted back to the dishes and my feet finally managed to turn away and take a few steps in the right direction.

Then, Trumpy’s dad was introduced. I turned back slowly, and my eyes met Alice, who also looked away slowly from the screen to me and whispered my thoughts, “what was his name?”

Do we have dirty minds? Was there a poor translation from the Italian version? Maybe there’s a few letters that our ears are just not picking up; I must know how it is spelled. I combed through the interwebs, even doing searches on Wiki, and when that failed, putting every combination of key words I could in Google to get what I was searching for. I could not find the name of that trombone, and so, I wonder.

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