by Kate Haas
My family doesn't own a television. Our boys don't watch TV. And here's the thing: this is not about you. I didn't want to let the no-TV thing slip. I don't, usually. But my five-year-old spilled the beans when your daughter mentioned Dora and now you're opening your mouth to speak and I know what's coming. So please believe that my choice to raise children without television has nothing to do with how I view you and your family.
I'd like to explain how it happened, how my family came to inhabit this lunatic fringe of American society. I'd tell you that I credit my lifelong identity as a happy reader to growing up in a home without television, myself. I'd tell you about the books filling that house, and the hours after school spent immersed in their wondrous scenarios: a wardrobe leading to another world; a mean girl spouting toads from her mouth; kids my own age running away to the Metropolitan Museum! I'd describe how deeply satisfying it is to see my own son curled up on the couch, lost in a book the way I used to be.
I wish I could say all that. In the few seconds after I ruefully
admit that my son was right, we don't have a TV; and just
before you quickly assure me that your kids only watch PBS and
nature shows, I want to tell you about the books, mother at the
playground, fellow mother. I want to assure you that my decision
not to have a television isn't about you. It's about me and
The Chronicles of Narnia. But I'm afraid you won't
see it that way. Because I've had these encounters before, and
I know how this plays out.
My decision not to have a television isn't about
you. It's really not necessary to describe
your struggle to limit TV-watching to two hours per
day. You don't have to justify anything to me and this
awkward confession is none of my business. Believe me, I'm not
sitting in judgment. Isn't raising kids hard enough without
that? Besides, it's not as if the no-TV stance isn't going
to result in power struggles at my house. I put my own parents
through it and expect my boys to do the same. In fact, it's too
bad you weren't around to hear my son's response when a
friend asked him why we don't have a television. "Because
my mother doesn't love us," replied the little stinker,
with a sneaky grin in my direction.
Other parental decisions don't seem so fraught to me, at least
at the level of personal interaction. My first son was formula-fed, and despite what we're all led
to believe, I never faced a flicker of disdain from any of the
breastfeeding mothers I encountered. Non-vaccinators in my circle don't get the
hairy eyeball from the rest of us. So what is it about not owning a
TV?
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