Before Little Man arrived, there were certain ideas I had about babies and parenthood. Things like diet and tv and sleep, that kind of thing.
For instance, I am not a huge fan of the television. Don’t get me wrong, I watch plenty of it, but I generally think it is a waste of time and don’t particularly like it on just for the sake of a buzz in the background. And as a primary teacher I quickly feel indignant when children tell me about how much tv they watch (when they should be getting an early night. Or better yet, practising their spelling list). And so, naturally, I am never going to plonk my children in front of the television, unless I have personally checked the educational or developmental value of the programme.
I am (luckily, I think) able to see the humour in having my pre-baby ideas/ideals blown out of the water time after time:
This morning, Little Man was not happy about my attempts to lie/strap him into any sort of distracting or restraining device… In the end, the only way I could get ready for church was to plonk (*sigh* I was never going to plonk) Little Man, dressed and carseat-ed, in front of Sunday morning children’s television.
I am very grateful – Grandfather In My Pocket (or something to that effect) rescued my morning.