Have you all caught up with my friend Shauna, of Up In The Night, lately?
That girl rocks. my. socks.
She's making some changes in her household these days, and she's got me to thinking...
The other day, she wrote that she has cancelled her cable, and of the peace that has settled upon her family (once she got over her own prime-time cravings, that is). The atmosphere is quieter, her kids are using their imaginations more, and have stopped begging for the latest plastic toys, now that they are no longer able to view endless streams of commercials.
"Yay, Shauna!!" I say.
And once the weather improves, and Paint-a-palooza is over at my house, I am very tempted to do the same... For I, too, fight a losing battle with the "voices" in my house. And I'm not talking about the little people who are constantly underfoot. THOSE little voices are the important ones; the ones worth listening to. I'm talking about the voices of Dora and Diego and (**WORSE STILL**) those smarmy, smart-alecky ones found on Teletoon and Family Channel. Those are the voices that set off involuntary reactions in my body, and cause me to catapault myself across rooms, reaching desperately for the "OFF" button.
Yeah. THOSE voices.
One of those voices eminated from the mouth of one of my children today, at the lunch table. But it caused me to have an involuntary reaction of an entirely different sort:
Father: (placing a perfectly-prepared peanut butter and banana sandwich down in front of his third child) There you go, sweetie. One p-b-and-b, no crusts, cut diagonally, on a pink plate, just like you ordered. Bon appetit!
Wee Three: (solemnly) Thank you, Oh Man Of Steel.
There was a brief moment of silence, as we digested what our tiny little girl had just said...
THANK GOD my husband fell down on the floor laughing before I did.