One of the times we have been most relaxed about Bear and TV is the final feed- a quiet drink of milk on the couch around 6.45-7ish. I get Bear some warmed-up milk while she 'helps clean up' (often by pulling a few more things out of the shelf) then we flop together on the sofa and stare at the box.
The highlight for Bear is Wednesday nights when "Simon an' Maggie are going to put it on it"; we watch the Cook and the Chef in action and Bear interrogates me constantly about what that is or what they're doing. Beloved usually wanders down just before 7, having fed Mitts, and requests the closing moments of Neighbours. The news headlines come on, then by the time it gets to sport (about 8 minutes on ABC news these days) we're trundling up the stairs to bed. All things going well Beloved and I are standing in the kitchen 10 minutes later toasting our continued hold on sanity with a glass of red...
Recently Bear has been throwing a spanner in the works, but one I'm quite proud of. As I've offered to put on the TV she's told me in no uncertain terms that the TV won't be going on, and requests ranging from
"dum dum the mountain song" (classical music, specifically Night on Bare Mountain) to
"Mitt-Mitts' music box the beatles' one" (Baby you can drive my car, as played on her brother's new music box)
are proffered instead.
Beloved has even made the mistake of walking out and putting on the TV, only to be shouted at by an incensed 2-and-a-half year old music afficionado!
Will it continue, or will we end up dealing with the flaccid misery of TV or game addicted kids, as is being discussed at Essential Baby? Fingers crossed, and while I have to keep reminding myself not to fall into the trap of 'pushing' a particular hobby every iota of interest the kids show in music will be matched by enthusiastic facilitation at our end.
Even at risk of humiliation: last night as I put my dignity on the line to entertain with a rocking air-mike rendition of drive my car, Bear stared at me, unflinching, as if watching a 6 foot purple frog roll its eyes.
*back to the couch*
A pub poem - My chip has fallen to the floor. The bar is crowded. I look down. *Sehnsucht*. A lawless longing for The unattainable. I frown.
18 hours ago