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I’m sure you’re all dying to know how Babby’s first day at daycare went.

Because clearly, your lives all revolve around MY life.

Oh, the ego-centric bloggerverse.

Anyway, he was fine. That massive all-night sleep ended at 4:45 am, so he was already exhausted and drowsy when I dropped him at daycare. Daycare Lady had no problem putting him to sleep thanks to that.

Well, thanks to that… and the sleepy suit.

She told me that he gobbled an egg (he had already had bacon and eggs and toast at home that morning), and pita, and LAMB SHANK, and rice, and crackers…

“He’s a really good eater!”

So I hear.

“He likes to feed himself.”

Yes, yes he does. I didn’t use the word “Baby Led Weaning” in case she thought I was a nut job, but I did tell her that he had never had purees – that I had always just handed him stuff off of my plate, and he’d eat it. Which is true. (Never mind that for the first month or so, he would just suck on it, rather than eat it, so he didn’t really start solids until seven months old…)

Anyway, he played and she said he didn’t cry at all. When I cam in the door he signed “milk” at me (Daycare Lady also thinks it means “Mommy” because she said there were times when he made it during the day and had no interest in the milk she brought). He wasn’t overjoyed to see me, just “oh, hey, about time you showed up. Boob me, woman.”

After he’d nursed for a bit, he went back to crawling around while I talked to her, wrote checks and so on.

All of that was good. But I didn’t experience much relief because I was drowning in the horror of what I had seen when I had arrived to pick him up…

I arrived about fifteen minutes earlier than I had told her to expect me. I looked in the window and saw him playing near the door while snacking on some pita.

AND DORA THE EXPLORER WAS PLAYING ON THE TELEVISION SET.

*dramatic mus8c* Dum Dum DUM!

Most of you know, I think, that I’m a little weird about television. I hate it with a passion. HATE. IT.

I mean, yes, I do watch T.V. But never on my own, as a solitary activity. Wouldn’t occur to me (well, except for those first couple of months when Babby had me pinned to a chair all frigging day). We don’t consider cable worth paying money for.

I like certain TV shows – House M.D., Glee, Sex and the City, Friends, Dragon’s Den, Mythbusters, Canada’s Worst Driver… but I hate commercials. I like to watch things on DVD whenever possible.

And pediatricians agree that television is totally mind-rotting for under-twos. Especially children’s television! I would rather Babby watch the news than children’s programming.

I specifically chose this daycare because the lady said the kids didn’t watch tv. SO WHY WAS DORA THE EXPLORER CHATTERING INANELY AT MY CHILD?

To be fair, he wasn’t watching, or plunked in front of the set. But it was ON. He could be hypnotized by it at any moment.

I brought it up almost immediately, and the Daycare Lady said that it was unusual. She said that she hadn’t even had cable in the room until she went on vacation, when her stand-in who took over daycare insisted on it for her own children. I didn’t care about before. I cared about NOW. Would it be a regular thing? I was assurred not.

But how can I know? My trust in her feels shattered.

I realize that this sounds melodramatic, but this is important to me. I tried to make that clear to her.

It brought home to me that 5 days a week, now, I am not raising my child. Someone else is. I have no real control over how he is treated and what he is taught. I can make my preferences clear, but I can’t KNOW.

What if he is turned into a tv fiend? What if his first word is “Dora!” or worse *shudder* “Max” or “Ruby”?

I realize that all children get exposed to the culture of tv eventually, and I thought I was resigned. I said as much to The Corn Fed Girl on her post about Those Moms (since I am one).

But he’s 11 months old.

It feels so early to let go, to give up my influence to others, to let someone else decide what my baby with his tender developing brain is exposed to.

I cried myself to sleep.