TV Is Bad

Dad is out of town, traveling for work. L and I swing by a local pizza joint for a to-go pie. We look up and there he is…

The Great and Powerful Oz. No, not the guy behind the curtain. The one who has a television show which, up until yesterday, I’d never seen.

The subtitles are flying by, (phonetically spelled, always a plus for a kid), and suddenly we realize this Great and Powerful Oz is talking about the dangers of eating (too much) red meat, the alarming rate of salmonella in poultry, not over-indulging in calcium…

Animated visuals are showing platelets zipping through the bloodstream like pinballs, an ominous buildup of plaque. Ultimately, we see a heart cease to beat (in cartoon, natch).

L: “Ack! I don’t think I’m going to eat red meat anymore. I barely do anyway.”

L: “Is hamburger considered red meat?”

L: “What did it say about turkey?”

L: “So milk is bad? Should I stop taking my vitamins?”

I do what any good, responsible parent would: I pull out my iPhone and command him to play.

L has been thrown off the scent.

All I can think is “The Exorcist” might have been less traumatic.


Here’s what I’m talking about

So this is why I started writing about L. For almost eight years, I’ve shared things he’s said with other people and they’ve all said, “whoa, he’s… deeeeep.” The other day, he said he very much needed a gas mask. I explained why that wouldn’t be necessary, save them for people who need them. He said, “but, mom, you really can never be too prepared.”

I fret. I tell my bestie about it. Her response: “I’m going to build a safe room.”

Me: “Don’t you think it’s odd?”

Her: “I think he knows something we don’t.”

I stockpile canned goods.