As American as Apple Pie, Bloody Skeletons and Machine Guns

I let Sam watch the first half of the first inning of the World Series tonight. A lot of the kids in his class are talking about it (we’re close to Boston and this is definitely Red Sox nation).

It took 45 minutes of pregame to get to the batters. There were 8 or 10 rounds of commercials. The first one was funny and we both loved it so much we went back to see it again–a guy and some animals singing in a jeep. But then the fun started.

During that 45 minutes, every break included something truly inappropriate. A bloody horror clown. A scary body on an operating table. Atomic flashes that turned people into glowing skeletons. A cartoon character shooting his mother with a machine gun, and another making sexual inuendos with an alien in the shower (I have to say that was for the Simpsons, which I love, but still.) I’m really not finding the words to convey how horrible some of the images were, and I am sincerely not a prude. I liked Pulp Fiction as much as the next girl, and sometimes I just wanna see someone blow some stuff up. But I wasn’t planning on taking along my first grader.

Sam spent every commercial break with his head buried on my chest, both because he is obedient and because, well, he finds explosions that blow body parts into the air frightening, and I didn’t realize how bad some of this was going to be until it was too late.

But really–can we not keep the World Series ok for kids to watch? At least the first inning? After all, we want them to grow up to be fans too.

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