While Jack was spending time with GiGi and PaPa I was in full-court-press productivity mode.
So while sitting at the kitchen table, working on a secret project, Henry called me over to the playroom 10 feet away… “Mommy! Maggie is breaking the TV.!”
I may have cried. Mourning the loss of HGTV, day-long PBSkids, and hours of free babysitting…
::pause for a moment of self reflection::
Suck it up, Emily.
What does it say about me that I’m freaking out about this? What does it mean if we don’t have a TV in the playroom. But if I can’t turn it on for them….. they’ll, what? Play?
Yeah, that would be terrible. They’ll use their imaginations, draw, pretend to be soldiers, cowboys, adventurers. What am I thinking?!
Suddenly this broken TV tragedy became an opportunity.
I was so used to needing the TV to keep the boys in place so their baby sister wouldn’t try to follow them around. But, I hate to admit it, she’s not a baby; she can follow them around.
With a room truly dedicated to play, they can build and create with reckless abandon.
My place to unwind is separate. There aren’t toys down here. I took this photo standing in front of our two giant bookcases, overflowing with books. There is a whole shelf dedicated to books I haven’t had the chance, the time, the motivation? to read.
This is broken TV might just be the best thing to happen to us in a while.
I’m not saying we will never watch TV again, but I am saying we will watch a whole lot less. And that’s probably just what our little family needed.