T.V. Writhings

As a mother, my emotions run the gamut between guilt and obsessive, unhealthy regard for the well-being of my children. I habitually immerse myself in detailed conversations with other mothers about the minutiae of child rearing. Topics range from the best tasting children's vitamins, toothpaste, and acetaminophen to the pedagogic issues regarding the lack of complex syntax in the Babysitter's Club and Goosebump books. One issue which remains perennially central is the amount of T.V. time one allows one's child. Nothing separates the careful and deliberate parent from the deficient and incompetent one like habits surrounding T.V. viewing. At the very pinnacle are those families who don't own televisions, slightly below are those whose sets only get PBS, and definitely below are the shameful rest of us who watch on the sly and execute a complicated dance around this issue with our children.
"I only allow Brittany to watch Barney when she has a fever and the weather is lousy."
"I only allow Justin twenty minutes of Sesame Street, unless his fever is over l00 and the snow is up to the shutters on the house."
"My Caitlyn doesn't even like T.V."
"I won't ever let our family get cable."
"Brianna has only ever seen Mr. Rogers once and that was on the day of his bubble opera."
"Meredith has too many nightmares after Nova."
"The animal shows on the Discovery Channel are even too violent for my McKenzie."
When the stakes of guerrilla motherhood are this high, you have two choices. You could be honest. You could say that your son and your husband sit together on a reclining chair, assume a catatonic, slack-jawed appearance and don't even seem to respire while their eyes are glued upon Hercules and Xena, Warrior Princess. You could say that you try to mitigate the schlock effect of this by reading later to your son from Edith Hamilton's Mythology about the twelve labors of Hercules and then have him draw pictures of Cerberus. Or you could lie and say with great sanctimoniousness that you don't have chrome on your car, or allow mirrors to be in the house, and that your family is Amish.
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