<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tashadoestulsa/4290895321/" title="DSC09412 by Tasha Does Tulsa, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC09412" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4053/4290895321_8a40cb7594.jpg" width="375" /></a><br /></div><br />One day, a psychologist named Elisabeth Kübler-Ross came up with the five stages of grief. You know the drill: Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Last, Acceptance. <br /><br />At 22 months, my son is too young to understand the late-night wars. All he knows is that he loves - no, lurves - Conan O'Brien. I can't blame him. I've been practically obsessed since I was in the ninth grade myself.<br /><br />Ever since six months or so ago, when I figured out we could watch as much Conan as we wanted via online video provider and mushy-mush creator Hulu, my kiddo has been equally enthralled. He demands the show daily.<br /><br />This, of course, leaves me in a bit of a pinch. <br /><br /><a href="http://www.ttownmoms.com/?page=blogs/view&amp;BLID=7265">Hear an audio example of toddler denial on my blog at Ttownmoms.com</a>.