A lifestyle change
A TikTok for the plus-sized. (Hat tip: Karin.)
This reaches deep into my psyche. I often dream that I’m searching the nooks of shopping malls for neglected fast food restaurants. (For more on shopping malls, see John Collier, “Evening Primrose.”)
🥨 🥨 🥨 🥨 🥨
The alluded-to lifestyle change is this: We’re placing our televisions under lock and key, away from our children.
’Bout time, I can hear you all murmuring.
No longer will I regularly watch TV with my wife, which I love to do. I’ll still view Hoopla and Kanopy and Tubi on my laptop. For special occasions (e.g., the World Cup), a television will be wheeled out for us all to view together.
The hoped-for gain is a reversal – or, at least, a slowing down – of our children’s barbarism. Daniel, especially, has been behaving like the titular character in the movie Bronson. This may be due to the arrival of his new brother, or it may be due to an excess of TV (or both). I’ll begin by trying to cut out TV.
Out, not down, because over time the safeguards have been eroded and the children’s dependency has become acute.
When Samuel was littler, I’d carefully restrict his viewing time. I believe what he viewed did him some good. He’d watch phonics videos; lo and behold, he learned to read. Other videos taught him countries, states, and capitals. A couple of years ago, he knew the names and nationalities of most of Brighton & Hove Albion’s soccer players – from viewing TV.
Then his preferences narrowed. He got hung up on the brands and models of motorcars, and then on Lego-building videos. Nothing wrong with those interests, but they crowded out the rest.
Daniel quickly learned the planets and dwarf planets … and, more than a year later, he still solemnly recites the planets and dwarf planets, and the numbers from one to ten. More than Samuel, he is drawn to purely sensory pleasure. Again: not bad in itself, but potentially limiting.
But much worse is how he behaves when he doesn’t get his “fix.” (Samuel, too.)
I hate to cut them off. Samuel has just gotten very interested in one of my childhood favorites, Captain Tsubasa (a.k.a. Supercampeones). (Or, to be precise, he is interested in its latest reboot, which has the same look and charm as the original.) He saves the show until night-time, along with certain snacks. Then he watches with utter emotional absorption. It’s as if he’s just now discovering TV as it’s meant to be consumed.
This reaches deep into my psyche. I often dream that I’m searching the nooks of shopping malls for neglected fast food restaurants. (For more on shopping malls, see John Collier, “Evening Primrose.”)
🥨 🥨 🥨 🥨 🥨
The alluded-to lifestyle change is this: We’re placing our televisions under lock and key, away from our children.
’Bout time, I can hear you all murmuring.
No longer will I regularly watch TV with my wife, which I love to do. I’ll still view Hoopla and Kanopy and Tubi on my laptop. For special occasions (e.g., the World Cup), a television will be wheeled out for us all to view together.
The hoped-for gain is a reversal – or, at least, a slowing down – of our children’s barbarism. Daniel, especially, has been behaving like the titular character in the movie Bronson. This may be due to the arrival of his new brother, or it may be due to an excess of TV (or both). I’ll begin by trying to cut out TV.
Out, not down, because over time the safeguards have been eroded and the children’s dependency has become acute.
When Samuel was littler, I’d carefully restrict his viewing time. I believe what he viewed did him some good. He’d watch phonics videos; lo and behold, he learned to read. Other videos taught him countries, states, and capitals. A couple of years ago, he knew the names and nationalities of most of Brighton & Hove Albion’s soccer players – from viewing TV.
Then his preferences narrowed. He got hung up on the brands and models of motorcars, and then on Lego-building videos. Nothing wrong with those interests, but they crowded out the rest.
Daniel quickly learned the planets and dwarf planets … and, more than a year later, he still solemnly recites the planets and dwarf planets, and the numbers from one to ten. More than Samuel, he is drawn to purely sensory pleasure. Again: not bad in itself, but potentially limiting.
But much worse is how he behaves when he doesn’t get his “fix.” (Samuel, too.)
I hate to cut them off. Samuel has just gotten very interested in one of my childhood favorites, Captain Tsubasa (a.k.a. Supercampeones). (Or, to be precise, he is interested in its latest reboot, which has the same look and charm as the original.) He saves the show until night-time, along with certain snacks. Then he watches with utter emotional absorption. It’s as if he’s just now discovering TV as it’s meant to be consumed.
