Monday, November 27, 2006

Cold Turkey

And I'm not talking left-overs.

Beginning tomorrow, morning cartoons are a once-was. For a little while, that is. Four days, specifically. Any longer and I might lose it. I'll admit it, I like my hour in the morning to fiddle around while my son sprawls in front of the TV, no interaction or guidance expected on my part. Actually, he is very actively involved in the shows that he watches, participating in the call and response, raising his arms up to the sky, ENGAGED.

Unfortunately, SIGH, he has been experiencing progressively more extreme withdrawal when it is time to turn said electronic device off. As in outright refusal, sobbing, thrashing around on the floor, etc. This makes it quite difficult to complete the few remaining tasks that are necessary before we can leave the house, like brushing teeth and putting on shoes.

I reached my elastic limit this morning (remember, I don't really want to impose this consequence!) when he was a horrid little brat (oops, did I really type that?) after I turned off the TV. Despite the fact that we were going on a really exciting field trip with his preschool to see the Golden Dragon Acrobats, which he had been eagerly anticipating prior to the cartoon fiasco. Just like an addict, however, he wanted more, more, more of the drug that was currently coursing through his system!

Instead of cooperating (ha!) so we could leave in a timely fashion, he spent ten minutes choking on his own mucus as he sobbed away like the junkie he is. Then, when we got in the car and he still hadn't stopped crying, mommy dearest (see how I try to distance myself from my evil other through third-person narrative?) proceeded to scream at him for 5 minutes to "just shut up!"

So. Tomorrow, no TV. And Wednesday. And Thursday. And Friday. I'm not looking to ban TV watching, just to take a step back into a more balanced space, from which we can evaluate "how much" and "when." (Tuesday morning update: my plan went surprisingly well. No whining, no tears, no endless protestations. I may be on to something here. Go figure.)

Wish me luck.

And when [he] was good
[He] was very, very good,
But when [he] was bad [he] was horrid.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

1 comment:

firstborn said...

you little one sounds like my nephew (he's 4)...i was CRACKing up with how you described his little tirade! i so feel you pain...that is exactly what my nephew does & my sister is screaming at him to get a grip!

the quote is so appropriate...

i'm dying to know what's inside that lovely package you're gonna send!

xx, mary ann