The worst thing about letting my daughter watch a few shows is having to turn off those shows. It’s not so bad now that she’s 6, but at around 3, it was intense. I’d brace myself every time I’d enter the zone—that space between her eyeballs and the television. Standing in a place where she’d see me, I’d give her the warning: “Five more minutes, okay?” She’d nod her head and then motion for me to step out of the way. When the time was up, I’d grab the remote. “Alright, that’s it!” I’d say, and turn the TV off. And then, like clockwork, her body would melt off the sofa as she’d cry, “WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY,” even if the show had ended.

The worst thing about letting my daughter watch a few shows is having to turn off those shows. It’s not so bad now that she’s 6, but at around 3, it was intense. I’d brace myself every time I’d enter the zone—that space between her eyeballs and the television. Standing in a place where she’d see me, I’d give her the warning: “Five more minutes, okay?” She’d nod her head and then motion for me to step out of the way. When the time was up, I’d grab the remote. “Alright, that’s it!” I’d say, and turn the TV off. And then, like clockwork, her body would melt off the sofa as she’d cry, “WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY,” even if the show had ended.