You think cats miss you when you go away? Our two always seem remarkably blase when we return. Gump is usually around, but sleeping. Tess is never around and shows up late for dinner. As if to say, “Oh, are you back again? I've been having a wonderful time on my own!” I'd like to think they miss us, but I know if someone else turned up here, started feeding them and letting them sleep where they wanted, they'd hardly notice!
We now have no television. Not strictly true as it's packed away in a cardboard box in our garden shed, but, really, we now have no television.
I went for a walk this morning with Matthew and his two cousins — Alex who's a year older than Matthew, and Georgia who's 6 months younger. We've spent the long weekend at my aprent's beach-house with my sister and brother-in-law and my parents. I walked with the dog and the three of them rode little bikes along the road, criss-crossing and passing each other as we walked up to the bridge over the small river. On the other side is a small forest of pines trees and we went for a walk along a track that meandered through the sandy soil. Matthew was absolutely petrified. “I'm scared Daddy”, he kept saying.
He thinks the woods are full of wolves. And witches. And dragons. Actually, maybe not dragons. For some reason he thinks dragons live in Australia. I'm sure everyone but my Australian readers will understand that we don't actively work to disavow this notion! For Matthew, more than is normal I think, the world is a scary place — full of creatures and animals lying in wait for him.
And virtually all of this is from television and video. Last night the three kids were watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves on video as they went to sleep. Debbie popped her head in after a while and found Matthew sobbing on the bed. The video had scared him, the other's were asleep, and he was in the dark room crying his eyes out. Maybe he's too senstitive? I don't care. I think that's a good thing. I don't want a three year old blase about fairy-story terrors. But I sure as hell don't want him too scared to go for a walk with me.
So I talked with Debbie later this morning and said let's get rid of the television. I don't want him watching it when it affects him like it has. I don't want him watching it, glassy-eyed and entranced when I come him from work. His only comment as I ask him how the day was, “Get out of the way!”. I don't want him asking for television as the first thing he says in the morning. And, perhaps most importantly, I don't want us plunking him down in front of televsion while we go off and do more ‘important’ things like read our e-mail or do some work. We're his parents. Television isn't his babysitter.
So the tv is gone. We've told him it's broken. We made a game out of rearranging the living room, and so far he's accepted it all without problem. The living room is a much more humane space now. It's not focused on a box in the corner. and it's not like we've been watching a lot of television anyway. Just a couple of programmes a week. Some sport. Some news channels. Not stuff we can't do without. Not stuff we can't get elsewhere.
I guess we'll see how this goes. I think it can only be good though.
Rearranging the living room. Part of rearranging our lives.
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Di's journal
Because she's got a funky new haircut. Oh, and updated for the first time in about a year!
Journals and blogs that I read regularly
Raising Hell
Feral Living
Hippycritical
Udder
My Life in 12 Point Font
Journal of a Writing Man
Some Jingle Jangle Morning
The Last Girl Scout
Potatoe.com
Journallife.com
Window to my Soul
Chickybabe
Sorabji.com
Yesterday's Makeup
Fifteen Milliliters
Fly Away
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Photo of tunnel copyright Bernd Klumpp, available from istockphoto.com