Last night we finally had The Talk in our house.
“Grace has a TV in her room.”
“Yes, yes, she does.”
“No, we share our TV in our family.”
“But Grace has one.”
“Yes, Grace has one. But our family has one TV, and we watch it together. If you were in your room by yourself, you would be sad.”
“When I am four, can I have a TV?”
This is when my husband cut in with that never-in-your-life tone that is buried deep in that Y chromosome. “You will NEVER have a TV in your room until you’re out of the house!”
I never thought we’d have the television battle just yet. Grade school, sure. Preschool, no.
Yes, we’re movie people, but we’re just not live-or-die by the television types. My husband, who grew up in the country, believes kids should enjoy the real world first. I never grew up with a TV in my room either, but in the short period I lived with my in-laws after our apartment flooded, I realized how jarring it can be. We’d turn on the TV, which was in our room, every night for hours to escape. It wasn’t great for us, nor for our relationship.
In fact, when we built our house, no bedrooms had a cable outlet. My mother protested it’d be an issue for resale value. My feeling is by the time we sell, it will all be wireless.
I realize we’re an oddity in this society. Though, if you pay attention to the dialogue about going digital, it seems that fewer people are relying on cable these days. Maybe we’re not so strange after all.
So, no, little one, you won’t be getting a TV for your room. You will someday remember fighting over shows with your brother, protesting when parents overrule and playing “movie theatre” on a blanket with your bowl of popcorn. And that is OK too.