I’ve decided it’s time to stop Belle watching so much television, effective immediately, with an additional complete ban on the Disney Channel. It’s a tough decision, given that the TV represents a significant chunk of my childcare, but I fear I have to do it, for two reasons.
Partly it’s because she seems to have become possessed with the spirit of Hannah Montana, and just cannot do as she is told without either hideous amounts of heavy sarcasm and talk-to-the-hand style arms gestures, or furious door slamming and feet stamping. Also, I’m becoming seriously concerned about the amount of advertising she is being exposed to.
“I’ve started my birthday list,” she told me yesterday, at the end of an ad break. Her birthday is in August. I guess it’s good to be prepared.
“I want a Playmobil mobile home, a Playmobil ice-cream van, and a Meccano spaceship and one of those things that was in that other advert.”
“Right…” I say. “What other advert?”
“I don’t know,” she says impatiently, “that one that was just on then. After the Playmobil one.”
“OK, but what was the thing? Was it a toy of some kind?”
“I can’t remember,” she barks, clearly frustrated at my inability to read minds/turn back time, “I know I liked it though.” Well obviously. Liked it so much in fact that she instantly forgot what it was.
“Well,” I concede, “I’ll definitely try and remember, It isn’t your birthday for a few months yet though.”
“WHAT??” she yells, spoilt American TV star style, “I have to wait until my birthday??”
“Yes, that is the general idea with birthday presents.”
“Oh GREAT, I’ll just wait MONTHS then shall I? You obviously don’t CARE about me and want be to be SAD!” And with that she throws a cushion viciously onto the floor, stamps upstairs to her bedroom and slams the door, shouting and sobbing all the while. It seems I have created a monster.
I reach for the remote and switch off the television.