Every new parent eventually learns resistance to “Bluey” is futile. I finally reached the acceptance phase last week while pushing my sick toddler through a CVS to get children’s ibuprofen, where the smiling face of the titular cartoon character gazed from the packaging of perhaps half of the available products in the kids’ aisle.
After dodging racks of Bluey plushies and Bluey-branded Easter baskets, we drove home while listening to the “Bluey” soundtrack, got her into Bluey pajamas, engaged with her Bluey training toilet, brushed her teeth with a Bluey toothbrush AND toothpaste, read her the Bluey “Sleepytime” book for the 200th time and tucked her in with one of her Bluey stuffies.
If I had the energy, or was 10 years younger, this kind of vertically integrated corporate synergy might enrage me, but our family’s assimilation into the “Bluey” hive-mind has been oddly serene.
Since appearing in 2018, the TV series, which is produced in Australia and is available on the Disney+ platform, has enchanted wave after wave of young children and their grown-ups, not always in that order.
If you belong to a family of four, you’ve probably been coaxed into recreating the opening-credits dance. If you’re like me, you’ve maybe searched online for an RFK Jr.-approved brain worm to eat that theme melody out of your skull.
“Bluey” follows a modern family — Mum (Chilli), Dad (Bandit) and daughters Bluey and Bingo — who happen to be blue heeler dogs. The episodes, usually about eight minutes long, tend to center Bluey and Bingo as they construct whimsical games and follow their imaginations wherever they lead.
Most of these episodes are silly, giddy fun. Many are miniature comic masterpieces, or poignant meditations on childhood fear or sadness. Some, like the beloved “Sleepytime,” are trippy and formally inventive. A few will rip your soul out. (Looking at you, “Camping.”)
And as most adult viewers are quick to observe, “Bluey” offers an uncommonly honest depiction of parenting, not just by the standards of kids’ programming.
Chilli and Bandit love their daughters, but they’re also often exhausted, distracted and maxed out by the work of parenting a 6- and 4-year-old. They’ll usually indulge whatever flights of fancy they’re pulled into, but will also sometimes sneak away just to look at their phones for a few uninterrupted minutes. (Girl, same.)
Almost every episode contains at least one passing moment that alludes to the parents’ offscreen lives, where they have jobs, interests, friendships, complicated family relationships and, crucially, entire histories that unfolded before Bluey and Bingo came along.
It could be Chilli dancing with the kids in a way that suggests she used to party pretty hard, or Bandit wistfully recalling his “free and easy” days before becoming a dad. I had to rewatch a moment in “The Show” a few times to confirm that a split-second gesture by Chilli implied what I thought, which was that she’d experienced a miscarriage.
The bad news is there hasn’t been a new episode in two years. However, there are already about 150 of them, and even without a new “Bluey” season to promote, the show’s reach has expanded through a vast merchandising empire encompassing everything from diapers to outerwear to kitchen supplies. I would be surprised if there weren’t official Bluey pregnancy tests, in order to start building brand loyalty as early as possible.
And over the weekend, Disney+ released “Bluey’s Big Play,” a filmed version of a musical stage show in which the characters are performed by puppeteers. It’s delightful. The previous week, the Bluey content mill issued “Up Here,” a soundtrack album featuring orchestral versions of music from the TV series. It, too, is delightful.
Much of parenting is picking which battles to fight.
The decision whether to relent toward the end of another long day and fire up an episode or two of “Bluey” turns out to be a pretty easy one.