It’s been two weeks, and we are still watching American Idol. You may wonder how I can possibly stand to do such a thing, or to live with myself in the face of doing it.
Just before leaving for his symphony rehearsal, Snowman gave me a lecture about how his sister will be ruined forever by watching such a show. Her values, he feels, will be marred and skewed beyond redemption. She is already, he tells me, far too concerned about things like boys and social life and image.
I feel sure there was something I ought not have let him watch at 11, but I couldn’t think of it quickly enough.
I do have a vague recollection that The Father of My Children allowed the children to watch Seinfeld repeats, a show about which I had bitter feelings after hearing him laugh over the episode in which George’s fiancée died after licking toxic glue on the envelopes for her wedding invitations. Perhaps I took it too personally. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…
He, on the other hand, gave me a hard time for letting #1 Son watch The Best Damn Show on Television, Homicide: Life on the Street. I’ve had a chance to watch some of the DVDs recently, and I stand by my decision. That was good acting, and it was good bonding time, too.
Snowman, meanwhile, has been my Lost watching buddy, and we got into 24 together. Neither of those is exactly highbrow, is it? But he’s not turning into a terrorist or a counter-terrorist, or even an Other.
Here’s what I think. I don’t really care what the show is, as long as it isn’t obscene. If my 6th grader wants to watch something with me, and spend time with me, and GET ALONG with me, I’m saying yes. Even if it makes me feel a little dirty.