So I was transferring our sizable CD collection from individual jewel cases to one of those huge CD wallets, and my visiting relative told me she prefers keeping CD’s in their original cases, for a variety of sensible reasons.  I told her I might, too, except that I was sick and tired of Elvis pulling every one of them off the shelf, opening them up, and throwing the CD’s on the floor and stepping on them.  “You know, there’s a word for that sort of thing,” she said.

“What’s that?” I, idiot that I am, asked.

“It’s no.”

Well, shut my mouth.  All of this time I thought I had a childproofing problem, but the actual problem was that I have never told my children “no.”  Of course!  It’s so simple–why didn’t I think of it myself?  I don’t know, but I’m going to start applying this ingenious philosophy immediately.

Princess Zurg wants to take a road trip without my permission?  No!

Mister Bubby wants to sit on his brother’s head and bounce?  No!

Elvis wants to climb up on the stove and make his own souffle?  No!

Sugar Daddy wants to leave his dirty socks on the kitchen table?  No!  No!  No!

I was blind, but now I see.

Speaking of the visiting relative, she has done me the favor of introducing my children to quality children’s broadcasting.  Insert sarcastic emoticon here.  I know a little Sesame Street here and there never hurt anyone, but up until now my kids thought television was something you could watch only if the channel was set to 3 and Mommy handled the less intuitive aspects of the VCR or DVD player.  They had no idea you could just turn the thing on and get instant entertainment.  If that sounds weird or like I’m some kind of anti-television nutjob, well, fine.  I’m comfortable with that.  I was also comfortable with my children never developing the TV habit it took me so long to kick.  (Especially since I’m constantly in danger of falling off the wagon again.)  I hate having the TV on all the time.  And I hate not being able to preview what they watch in advance.  Because, you know, that PBS crap will rot their brains.  Turn them into freaking socialists and whatnot.  There was a study or something.

Anyway, now that I have that off my chest, I can give you the boring disclaimer about how I dearly love my visiting relative, and she’s been tremendously supportive during this time of personal crisis (mine, not hers).  Now if she’d only keep her politics to herself…oh, sorry, did I type that out loud?  Never mind.  I have to go discipline two or more of my spoiled, TV-addicted brats.  X’s and O’s, kids.

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