I spent most of my childhood without a TV. I listened to both of my parents refer to it as the boob tube or the idiot box and say that it would rot one’s brain. The few times we did have a TV, no one was allowed to watch more than one hour a day. Exceptions were made for the Super Bowl and the Olympics. Such events fell under the category of acceptable, non-brain-rotting entertainment apparently. Oh, as did Miami Vice. 10 PM Friday nights my dad would actually plop down in front of the tube sans newspaper and watch, fully engrossed. Miami Vice. Don’t even bother trying to figure it out, your head will explode.
I’ve read most of the studies related to TV and children and frankly, I’m not sure there is anything truly conclusive so I fell back on my upbringing. Little Man was not exposed to the boob tube with the exception of football and NASCAR. And then the other exceptions crept into our lives.
The first exception occurred when my husband travelled for work and was gone for over 2 weeks. The first weekend, I cheated. I went to a friend’s house so her son could entertain my son and she could entertain me. The second weekend I was stuck entertaining my son all by myself. We exhausted all the toys in the house and my throat was getting a tad raw from the growling contest. I was quickly running out of options and I could see the wild look begin to creep into his eyes so I did the unthinkable. I turned on the TV. I appeased my guilt by sitting with Little Man as he watched Little Bear and talked to him about what was going on. Right up until he put his little hand over my mouth and pushed away from me.
The second exception was when Little Man contracted Noro virus and kindly shared. With zero energy and negative zero appetite, Little Man and I curled up on the floor wrapped in a blanket and watched Prince Caspian. Thankfully he was too young for all the violence to register and it proved a great reminder to pre-screen anything he may want to watch!
And the avalanche began to pick up speed and force. My husband stopped hiding the fact that he was letting Little Man watch TV beyond our Sunday sports. So I provided him with a list of stations I considered appropriate for Little Man. A list contained a whopping 2 stations.
Thankfully Little Man’s attention span is still very short and he’s only interested in a show if there is singing involved which caused the avalanche to knock me on my ass and bury me under 3 ft of snow. This means a fascination with Backyardigans. Murphy’s Law dictates that said show will not be on the air at an appropriate time. I swear the producers, studios, whatever powers that be do this on purpose. Why you ask? Because it entices idiots like me to go out and buy the stupid DVDs. In an extremely short time span we went from owning NO such DVDs to owning THREE. Little Man now knows what the TV is. He now ASKS for it (granted he actually has to be in the room with it to remember and the TV is in the basement so I have some leeway still). If I take too long cuing up the DVD and fast-forwarding through all the ADS for other shows – ADS on a DVD marketed to toddlers. Ok, I’ll rant on that later. Where was I? Oh yes – He will sit there with his hands up in the air asking “where?” . And once it starts he walks up the TV to stroke the characters, try to play with the worm and physically attempt to interact with a cartoon.
So my child, years down the road when you are listing all the ways I scarred you for life, you may place this one near the top. I rotted your brain before you were even two. When I counter with all the books we have read since you were born, it won’t matter. The decay has started and once decay sets in, there is no turning back. So I’ll counter again with I couldn’t afford Ivy League baby so I figured what the hell.
And it was all decided and executed with love.
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