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The Boy asked to watch TV after he was excused from the dinner table. Since I refuse to get cable we have only a few channels that actually work some of the time and about two that tend to work all of the time.  With the kids more comfortable being uniformed, they are not likely to watch the news channel; leaving the TV pretty much permanently tuned to the CW.  Because the remote is never with the television or never has batteries and The Boy doesn’t know how to work it anyway, when he landed on a cartoon at the press of the button, he was happy.  He settled in on the couch to watch  Family Guy.

I am not a television person, which is why I chose to save myself the costly expense of cable/Direct-tv/U-verse/Dish Network or whatever other racket there is that charges for countless useless channels and puts any channel someone would want to watch in the “Premium” selection which, of course, costs even more money.  There are far better things for me to waste my money on.  I could take the money spent on one of these services and treat myself to a massage once or twice a month and call it money well spent.

As I am not a person that gets lost in front of the TV at the exact same time every day or sets any number of different electronic devices to save my show for me when I get home, I did not know the offerings on the CW Monday night. How bad could Family Guy be?

I’m paying only partial attention; I’m excited to have the babysitter take over long enough for me to be able to finish my meal in peace. I look up just in time to see Stewie, the football-head shaped talking infant with adult mannerisms, beating the crap out of the anthropomorphized family dog, Brian, for not paying off a debt from a lost bet that an old woman would beat Mike Tyson in a boxing match.  (It’s a stupid cartoon…anything can happen.)

Stewie Griffin

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As Stewie pistol-whips Brian into delirium, the show cuts to a scene where a football star has come to dinner at the family’s home and for some reason needs to take a shower (Or maybe it was two shows…not sure…I was only getting bits and pieces).  He’s naked in the shower, of course, and the mother and daughter are taking turns peering in at him through the keyhole in the door.  Then, we cut to the next scene where the dad climbs into the shower and responds to the player’s protest with towel snapping and butt smacking because “that’s what players do.”

At this point, I have had enough. It’s a bit late, I know. Although I know that what The Boy has seen won’t necessarily lead him to a life of perversion or homosexuality, I am afraid of the deliquency or life of crime that I am influencing by allowing this mess.  I am really worried that the violence portrayed in comedy may lead him to believe it is okay to pistol-whip his little preschool friends when they don’t give him a toy or take his chapstick.  And how am I supposed to explain that at his Montessori school?

I have got to turn off the babysitter but, I really don’t feel like fighting and have been working on my Positive Discipline skills development way too much to let him take me down this day.  So, I say to The Boy, as sweet as I can, “I don’t like watching this show. (I am sure it is not meant for kids anyway…or maybe it is…have you watched an episode of SpongeBob Squarepants recently?)

Without a blink, he says and not at all in a smartass tone but with concern for me, “well mom, if you don’t like watching this then close your eyes.”

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