"Traditions" can be good and not-so-good, and one such tradition we have involves morning television. My hopes of being a mother who could so breezily limit TV-watching to, say, one hour a day, had been flushed down the Toilet of All Flushed Hopes years ago. Our "tradition" started a long time ago, when Aidan was very little. He was a horrible sleeper (especially when it was nap time), and he woke up way too early in the morning. Yet even though he was awake in the early a.m. hours, he was not ready to function, so the habit formed: sitting in the big comfy chair with a little boy in my arms, watching PBS Kids (usually Sesame Street or Clifford at that hour). That's how we started every day.
This "tradition" continues. At 4 and a half, Aidan wakes up, goes to the bathroom, requests a cup of juice, and settles into PBS Kids for a while until he fully wakes up. Dare I admit this? I don't mind. It's relatively quiet in the house, I can take the time I need to shake the cobwebs out of my head, perhaps even complete a chore or two. Naturally, Grace -- though not much of a TV watcher herself -- has settled into this routine, sitting near her brother with her sippy cup full of a yogurt drink, shaking her own cobwebs away. PBS isn't so bad.
This morning something different occurred. Something I didn't think I would ever hear. After a couple of programs (Curious George, Clifford, Dragon Tales) Aidan said to me, "Mommy, I think it's time to turn off the TV." He is now in his room, using his imagination, playing with his cars.
Awwwwwlllll-right!!!!!!!
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