Antenna Installation

We have opened up Pandora’s Convertor Box.

Adam had some help hooking up our new antenna that is supposed to improve TV reception and possibly give us PBS, which I haven’t had on a TV since we lived in Lincoln while Adam was finishing school. And that was before the digital TV switch, so it was very fuzzy.

Well, we do have PBS now (and Fox comes in much better), but I’m not sure if this is actually a good thing. See, the girls haven’t ever watched much TV because we never got any stations with shows that are appropriate for them. We watched videos on occasion (Fraggle Rock, Veggie Tales, Sesame Street, and such), but nothing on a regular basis. That is no longer the case.

The girls have discovered Dinosaur Train. And Thomas and Friends. And Sesame Street. And Curious George, Clifford the Big Red Dog, Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood, and Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. Some of these shows had actually been viewed by the girls in waiting rooms at doctor offices in the past, but now they have figured out that these shows are on every weekday. So guess what we do every weekday now?

Actually, we don’t watch all of them every day. Thomas, Dinosaur Train, and Sesame Street are the three we watch often. The others are “sometimes shows”. And we aren’t going to be sampling the rest of the PBS Kids line up. I already feel like this is WAY too much television for us to be watching.

On the bright side, though, it has really opened up some creative play for all three girls. When Adam comes home, he gets to be Mr. Conductor or Sir Toppem Hat and the girls are either animals on the dinosaur train or they are trains with specials to deliver around the house. And Emmy has been doing lots of drawing of characters that we watch on TV. I don’t think the girls know that they’re making me feel better about the TV thing by making it the new subject of playtime, but that is the general effect. Well played, girls. Well played.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, Gwen, Emmy, and Agatha are needing to “hatch” out of their laundry basket eggs, and I get to be Mrs. Pteranadon. If I don’t hurry, the eggs tip over, and all the giggling makes it impossible to set them back up.

Ooops! Egg down!