It was a strange Fourth of July. The big party I usually go to was pared down, and with my underlying conditions, I didn\u2019t even attend the smaller gathering. What should I do?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Luckily, I fall in the age-range that had something to do this Fourth of July weekend, after watching Hamilton, of course. I\u2019m in that little slice of \u201cXennials\u201d that screamed very loudly for New Kids on the Block. You know who you are! And a few years before that, we were exactly the right age when Kristy Thomas had her great idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That\u2019s right. I binge watched Netflix\u2019s new re-imagining of The Baby-Sitters\u2019 Club<\/em>, and, as a childhood fan, I found it delightful. I was \u201cbeyond\u201d the Club when the earlier TV show had come out, but now, as an adult during a pandemic, nostalgia for a simpler time was just what I needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The first episode was exactly how I remembered the first book. Granted, I haven\u2019t read it recently, but the general gist was spot-on. The show updated a few things, beyond a joke about having a landline. The baby-sitters themselves are more diverse, with Mary-Anne being biracial (though she continues to be in braids at the start, as it should be!) and transplanted Californian Dawn cast as Latina. Mary-Anne still finds her voice when she \u201csaves the day,\u201d calling the doctor when watching a sick child. But now, her \u201cstand\u201d involved demanding that the hospital staff call her transgender charge by the right pronouns. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Minor changes aside, the personalities are spot-on, and by series\u2019 end, Mallory and Jesse are already crowned junior baby-sitters. I look forward to next season. <\/p>\n\n\n\n