For Christmas a couple years ago, my husband had a new stereo installed in my car. It has a DVD player and navigation and blue tooth and the whole shebang.
I love it.
So does The Cole.
In fact, he thinks it’s his and that he’s in charge of it and all that gets played on it.
One day, not long ago, when I picked him up from school, I forgot the change the video back to a kid friendly before hand. Instead, was an episode of Burn Notice, a personal favorite of mine. Now normally, I’d shut it off immediately and redirect his attention, etc. But for one, we literally live about 4 minutes (including school traffic) from his school. Secondly, Burn Notice is actually not too bad, really. They don’t cuss, there are no gory disgusting close up deaths of any kind… they pretty much do kung fu on each other (that’s how Cole will see it, anyway) and he already sees that when he watches 3 Ninja’s. Granted, I would not make a habit of him watching this show, but I figured this one, short time would be alright.
I couldn’t tell you exactly what happened in the 4 minutes of show he watched with me because I was too busy focusing on my finger next to the stop button ready to push immediately upon any blood… or talk of blood… or anything closely related. Well, I couldn’t have told you before yesterday.
Cole was playing in his dirt in the backyard (his favorite thing to do – ever) and there are some parts of random things back there in a section of the yard I call the useless crap section, that he enjoys making use of from time to time. He builds things like super fast race cars and sometimes cooks sushi (or gushi, if he tells it) for me if I’m hungry. Yesterday, however, he was building a bomb. Why do you ask? Because “Michael Weston makes bombs”.
Mother of the Year, once again.
Lesson learned. Nothing but Disney or Pixar in the car ever again whether he’s in it or not. Too risky. My bad.