Why I Let My Kids Listen to Monster Police Songs
The first time I really listened to Monster Police songs, I was standing at the kitchen sink with a handful of grated cheese, frozen mid-motion. My four-year-old was on the living room rug, shushing a stuffed rabbit with one finger and whispering something about checking the crosswalk. The TV was playing another episode of the animated police squad—colorful monsters in blue uniforms, all of them cheerful and slightly goofy. I’d been half tuning it out for weeks. But that afternoon, my daughter looked up and said, “Mama, police monsters help people. They don’t hurt people.”
That stopped me. It wasn’t just a lyric she had memorized. She was telling me something she actually believed.
I used to be skeptical of these songs. Another YouTube channel with catchy tunes and loud animations? I assumed it would be the same overstimulating content I usually try to avoid. But as the playlist got more and more across our house, I started paying closer attention. The stories are simple: a monster loses a toy, another one forgets his seatbelt, someone gets separated from their parent at the fair. The police don’t show up with sirens blaring or hands on holsters. They arrive with questions, patience, and a lot of pointing at signs.
My son, who is two, has started singing along even though he can’t pronounce half the words. He does this little dance when the whistle blows. He also, without any help from me, picked up a plastic phone the other day, held it to his ear, and said, “Nine-one-one? Problem?” I was startled at first. But then I realized he wasn’t pretending to be scared. He was pretending to be helpful. The songs gave him a script for emergencies before he even understood what an emergency was.
That’s the educational part that doesn’t show up in the description box.
Around the same time, we had a real moment that made me grateful for all those monster episodes. We were walking home from the library, and a police cruiser pulled over near the park entrance. My daughter didn’t hide or freeze the way I might have as a kid. She pointed and said, “He has a badge, and his car is like the monster police car.” I didn’t correct her. I just said, “Yeah, he’s out keeping people safe.” We kept walking. It wasn’t a big scene. But I knew then that these silly songs had given her a safe way to think about police officers before ever having a real conversation about them.
I know not every parent is comfortable with police content for kids. That’s fair. There are plenty of shows that present authority figures as either bossy or scary, and that can do more harm than good. But Monster Police doesn’t feel that way. The monsters are clumsy and kind. They make mistakes sometimes. They ask for help. The “bad guys” are never really bad—they’re usually someone who forgot the rule, like a monster who didn’t look both ways or one who climbed a fence to chase a ball. The resolution is always the same: everyone talks, everyone understands, and the problem gets solved together.
I’ve also noticed how the songs teach safety without making my children feel anxious. That’s a hard line to walk. A lot of safety media for young kids leans on fear to make a point—think of all the cautionary videos about strangers or accidents that leave little ones more confused than informed. Monster Police takes a different approach. The tone is bright. The instructions are repeated over and over. I’ve heard “If you get lost, stay where you are” about thirty times in the last month, and it’s finally sunk in. My daughter knows that if she can’t find me in a store, she should stop moving and call my name. That’s a simple, concrete rule she learned from an animated monster with a big blue helmet.
Some parents worry about screen time, and I don’t think that concern is wrong. I still set limits, and I still watch along whenever I can. But I’ve also learned that the quality of what they watch matters more than the quantity. A repetitive song about checking for cars before crossing the street is different from a noisy show where characters scream at each other. I can sit with my kids and listen to a Monster Police song and not feel like I need a shower afterward. That’s not something I can say for a lot of children’s content.
I’ve started doing small things to reinforce what they’re picking up from these songs. When we buckle into the car, I ask, “What would the Monster Police say about this?” My daughter tells me, “Everyone needs a seatbelt. Even the stuffed bear.” When we walk to the mailbox, I point out street signs and ask her what they mean. She knows a red light means stop, and she recently informed me that walking on the sidewalk is “the safe choice.” None of that came from me. It came from the monsters.
I also use the songs as a natural way to talk about people who help us. It’s easy for young children to think that police officers exist only to catch bad guys, or worse, to be afraid of them. Monster Police gives us a bridge. We’ve played a little game at home where her stuffed animals get “lost” and we have to find a safe adult. I’ll ask, “Who can you ask for help if we’re separated?” and she’ll list police officers, store workers, or a mom with kids. That last one surprised me, but I liked it. The monsters taught her to be selective, not afraid.
I know these songs aren’t perfect. The animations are a little repetitive. The lyrics loop more than I’d like, and sometimes I catch myself humming them during work calls. But they’ve also given my kids a vocabulary for situations they can’t fully understand yet. Emergencies, strangers, traffic, getting lost—these are heavy topics. A cheerful song with a friendly monster is an easier way to start that conversation than a serious sit-down lecture at the kitchen table.
I’m still figuring out how to handle all of this as a parent. I don’t think I have everything figured out. My kids might move on to something else next month, and that’s fine. But for now, I’m okay with the Monster Police playing on our TV. They’re not just filling time. They’re showing my children that asking for help is smart, that police are people you can trust, and that safety rules are there to take care of you. That feels like something worth singing along to.
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