I admit it: I suffer from TV shame. It’s the feeling that descends when my wonderful children, acting independently in the world, reveal that they watch [what I believe is] too much TV. Some examples:

• Four-year-old Alex utters something clever on Tuesday, and I smile to myself, basking in his brilliance. Then on Wednesday I hear SpongeBob utter the very same sentence.
• At the Book Fair, my children pick out two categories of books: those based on Nick Jr. characters, and encyclopedias of cheat codes. I scurry to hide them beneath the Caldecott and Newberry Award Winners I have picked out. 
• Alex, in his best impression of Josh Nichols (of Drake and Josh–which you, dear reader, probably aren’t familiar with, because your children do not watch too much TV), announces on the playground, ”I want to go play with those hot girls over there.”

What’s to be done for TV shame? Embrace it–that’s been my best therapy. I notice its onset (perhaps by my frantic shuffling of Dora’s World Adventure beneath Make Way for Ducklings). And then I try and hold my head high. “Alex, your Dora book has stickers–isn’t that fun?” I say. But rarely am I able to sustain. Luckily, the Dora books always seem to disappear once we get them home.