Observations

I am that mom who really thought somehow TV would creep into my sweet angels eyes and turn them into ADHD/Autistic/Rude little beasts who would have Elmo steal any chance of a future as a Literary Scholar/Doctor/Lawyer (not the shark-type lawyers, but the do gooders who change the world AND make money). This thought process consumed me in my first pregnancy -- we would NOT have a TV on when said child was in the room/house/neighborhood. It was the devil and the devil was not welcome to 152 Aurora Ct.

Then I learned that taking a shower, making a phone call, or cooking dinner are the prime times for the needy "Moooooooooooooms!" that pop up from a child perfectly absorbed in his/her game/book/fort until the exact moment you need a little quiet. Then the somehow something shattered that perfect ten minutes of quiet and you are left asking your physician to "hold on, just a sec, OK?" and scrambling for a sugary treat worthy of ten more minutes of quiet.

One day, in angst, I threw on the TV. Of course, it was PBS, and at the beginning of the show it talked about how it's like "preschool on TV" and gave some curriculum indicators that would be addressed/mastered/discussed in the next 20 minute segment.

We won't get to the third benchmark, PBS, I snidely thought, as I knew the second the doctor and I got a chance to discuss the test results no more TV. After fifteen minutes of complete quiet from the great room, I sprinted over to Zoe to make sure she was, in fact, still breathing. Not only was she breathing, but a giggle escaped her sweet lips as she watched a bi-racial cartoon character jive about the scientific process.

Plopping into an overstuffed-crazily-upholstered art deco chair I watched the rest of the show with Zo. And it was not only cute, funny, and entertaining, it was teaching her the scientific process... at two.

Later that day over organic whole wheat bread, all-natural peanut butter, fresh strawberries from our small, yet functional, garden, and an apple from the Farmers Market, we talked about making observations. OK, you caught me. We tried organic for at least a week. I mean, really tried. Until I realized all the organic crap was in the farthest part of the mega-grocery and totally organic meant no more Oreo's in this house. Zo was stuffing her mouth with the last of her fries - she loves those Mickey D's fries - I mean, organic fruits - and she commented on her Happy Meal toy's long spindly legs. I said, "That's a good observation, Zo! Yes, your odd-soon to be in the Goodwill pile toy DOES have spindly legs! You made an observation!"

Zo shrugged and I polished off the last of my sandwich and her nuggets with a smug little comment to PBS about how they may have a bi-racial kid jiving to the scientific process, but that doesn't mean the viewers will LEARN the scientific process.

No more TV in this house! I will not, I refuse, to use the TV as a babysitter!

A few mornings later, in the rush of getting the Mr. off to work and two kids to two different ENT/OT appointments in assorted parts of town, Mr. begged Zoe to bring him a pair of clean socks to cover her little feet. When on the fifth request as he simultaneously dressed, shaved, and scarfed down a banana, Zo brought in some graying white socks. Mr. leaned down to cover those adorable piggies to realize the socks were definitely not from the clean pile.

"Zoe! These socks are filthy! Filthy!" He stated a little upset that his two year old could not differentiate a clean from a dirty sock.

"Yep! Here's the clean ones." she stated as she pulled another clean white pair out from behind her back.

Puzzled, the Mr. said, "Those are clean!"

"Just wanted to test you, Daddy! You can make good observations!"