Posts Tagged With: TV


Mommy and Daddy are big believers in using things until they no longer function.

We didn’t by a new car until my old car just flat out refused to start, ever, even after going to the shop three times. We have bent and dented frying pans with only about 25% of the non-stick coating still left – but hey, they still fry stuff, so who cares if they aren’t pretty? My husband has polo shirts where the collar is attached with random 1/2 inch bits of the seam still intact – but since you can’t see the gaps when the collar is folded down properly it’s still a functioning shirt, right? Most of Soapfi’s wardrobe is either gifts or hand-me-downs, her outfits scream St. Vincent De Paul & Value Village, and we love that – there is plenty of love and wear left in those little clothes!

So all that being said, it should be no surprise that the TV in the Sarlacc Pit is at least 12 years old. I know I had it for many years before Daddy and I even met. It’s huge, heavy, and the remote was lost ages ago – but hey it has a power switch, channel and volume controls on the front of  it, so it still works just fine – and when hooked up to the cable box it kinda sorta has a new remote.

A few nights ago Soapfi and I were in the den playing at (“ABC Song! ABC Song!”) and the TV was on CBC for whichever playoff game they were showing at the time (for those to whom the connection of CBC and playoffs in the same sentence mean nothing – I’m sorry that the Stanley Cup Playoffs aren’t a bigger part of your life, or that you’re stuck watching an American feed – I thank my lucky starts to live in a state so close to Canada that my local cable provider sees fit to include a channel where I can watch my hockey properly – hockey without Ron MacLean and Don Cherry just isn’t right! But I digress…). All was well and happy in our world, we were following the bouncy ball as it strolled through the alphabet, pointing out the various letters in the background picture, when POP, BANG, FIZZ. There was a brief moment of screeching static, a big spark, and a cloud of black acrid smoke.

Mommy unceremoniously dumped poor Soapfi to the floor, ran to unplug the TV, made sure nothing was still on fire, and opened the window to air out the god awful stink. Poor Soapfi was crying “up, up, up” followed by “scary, scary, scary”. I went into comfort mode and got her calmed down. However, the remainder of the night she refused to go in the den, even going near the door to the den would elicit exclamations of “scary TV”. Many days later the stink still lingers, and Soapfi still shutters at having to walk by the TV to get to the bathroom to brush her teeth or wash her hands, her two most favorite things in the world!

We do fully intend to remove the TV, however it’s *very* heavy and we’ve got to make some room in either the garage or the basement to put it, so it is most definitely a “project” as opposed to a mere “task”. But in the mean time, I guess we are helping her learn to deal with fear and scary things. And no, it hasn’t turned her off of TV’s in general, just that one specifically.

Categories: Parenting | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Lettuce Make A Mess

We are in the midst of the “I do it” ‘s. Struggling with the desire to let her do things on her own, while mitigating the cleanup that will undoubtedly be involved afterwards. There have been worse messes, but last night was fun – I only wish I had been able to find my camera – I’m blaming the Sarlacc Pit – it’s appetite for all things electronic is amazing.

Daddy was still recovering from his cultural experience from the night before, so it was Quizno’s for dinner. Soapfi decided my Turkey Ranch Swiss looked delightful and managed to grab an entire half and scamper off into the living room. It started out okay, she was using two hands, taking dainty bites while the sandwich obscured half her face (what I had hoped to capture on film), and actually sitting in an almost ladylike fashion in her favorite kid sized chair in front of the TV.

Yes, we are horrible parents who let her watch TV even though she is not two yet – the girl LOVES her some Super Why and since she can shout out and correctly identify the super letters, likes to get up and dance with Mr Noodle, and Mr Noodle’s brother Mr Noodle, and has learned to say “Arrgghh, Matey” (even though it sounds like “Eh, Mickey”) whenever she sees a pirate thanks to Calliou, I refuse to believe that we have rotted her brain completely. 

However, as she became more confident in her ability to eat this sandwich herself, things (especially the sandwich) began to fall apart.

First she decided she only needed one hand to control this momentous hunk of bread, deli meat, cheese, and condiment deliciousness.   A gaping maw began to develop along the edge, lettuce began to waft gently towards the carpet.

Sit still?  How absurd, mommy and daddy need to revel in this glorious achievement,  thus the full tilt run back into the dining room, leaving a trail of lettuce Hansel & Gretel would be proud of.  And the one handed death grip on the side of the sandwich causes the gaping maw to open wider.

Upon seeing the status of the sandwich I reach out and ask nicely “Would you like help?”.  Mistakenly thinking I could repair the gaping maw and mitigate further lettuce bombs on the carpet. Klaxons sound and Soapfi goes into full battle mode, pulling back on the sandwich and shouting “I DO IT”, and running back to the safety of her living room chair.  Naturally not taking the original path and leaving another smattering trail of lettuce (reinforcing my opinion that shops put way too damn much lettuce on sandwiches to begin with).

Feeling safer on her home turf, she lets me approach as I try, once again, to extract the quickly disintegrating hunk of food and explain that we now have to clean up the mess.

Oh… a mess!  The only thing she loves more than making a mess, it’s helping to clean up the mess…. of course her definition of “helping” is to grab a napkin or towel and proceed to vigorously smash the mess deeper into the carpet while chanting “all clean, all clean, all clean”.

After which I dutifully clapped, thanked her for helping, and reaffirmed my decision to give Alpine Carpet Cleaners one of the speed dial slots on my cell phone .

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