“Mom, I’m bored.”
“Go watch tv.”
^ That’s my childhood ^
I’d lay on the carpet, right in front of the screen. I’d eat chocolate chips and accidentally let them melt onto my butt. My mother would complain that sitting too close to the set was letting radioactive rays into my body, because she’s paranoid like that. I’d watch a variety of shows, from Beavis & Butthead, to Lizzie McGuire, to Unsolved Mysteries.
I’d complain when I had to miss a program to come to the dinner table.
I’d record shows on VHS tapes when I had to leave the house.
Sure, I did all the normal things kids do; going to the park and running in the sprinklers. However, I was the happiest when I got to plop down in front of the television.
Something about watching the kids on Degrassi sort out their middle school problems, and watching Bob Barker tell people to spin the wheel, made me next level joyful.
Also, don’t get me started on Goosebumps.
These days, though, I look at little kids who are sucked into their TVs or iPads and I feel bad for them, but I turned out kind of okay. I don’t regret not being as adventurous as a kid, either, because I gained so much of my personality from the television. Although, I’m surprised I wasn’t strangely brainwashed to some extent.
I don’t watch television these days like the way I used to. If one of the old favorites happens to be on though, I watch, and I am transported back to that place. The place where there wasn’t any worry and all I needed was a cup of applesauce and a box with bunny ears.