By Heather Stromski
My son – my firstborn, my light, the apple of my eye – began preschool this past Monday. What few there will know is that his education started years ago. One might even say it started while I was still pregnant with him. From watching episode after episode of Stargate SG-1 on those long nights when sleep eluded me, either from simply being too uncomfortable to sleep, or when he simply refused to go down himself; to watching him perk up upon hearing the theme to Doctor Who, my three-year-old minimonster has been learning at my side what it means to embrace creativity – in other words, embrace his inner geek, what I almost consider his birthright, considering who his parents are. These television shows and movies have so much more to offer him, and other children lucky enough to have parents that will expose them to it, than most of the fare directed at them.
My son – my firstborn, my light, the apple of my eye – began preschool this past Monday. What few there will know is that his education started years ago. One might even say it started while I was still pregnant with him. From watching episode after episode of Stargate SG-1 on those long nights when sleep eluded me, either from simply being too uncomfortable to sleep, or when he simply refused to go down himself; to watching him perk up upon hearing the theme to Doctor Who, my three-year-old minimonster has been learning at my side what it means to embrace creativity – in other words, embrace his inner geek, what I almost consider his birthright, considering who his parents are. These television shows and movies have so much more to offer him, and other children lucky enough to have parents that will expose them to it, than most of the fare directed at them.