On Putting Down the Camera

In our family, one nightly tradition has been to watch at least part of America's Funniest Home Videos before Annie's bedtime. For some reason I cannot now recall, it was one of those shows we would have on in the background most evenings while getting Annie ready for bed, and she began watching, and would crack up, especially at the Kids and Pets (she still thinks the name of the show is Funniest Kids). We do find ourselves more and more having to quickly change the channel when something scary comes on, and lately it has occurred to me that maybe the level of physical violence portrayed, while mostly whimsical, is a bit extreme and desensitizing. Come to think of it, we are crazy for letting her watch! (Note to Abby: let's talk about this.)

Regardless, were you to be present in our house during these nightly airings, you would most likely hear the following phrases being hurled at the T.V., usually by me:

1. "I wouldn't do that . . . Told 'ya!"

2. "How does one recover from such a thing?"

3. "Put down the camera and help your child!!"

It is the cause of #3 which, as a father, baffles me. The specific situations are varied, but usually the scene is something like the following:

A small child is walking, sweetly and serenely tottering along, in some backyard or similar green open space. He is pointing to something, a flower or a ladybug, and he is babbling and smiling and doing all of the wonderfully sweet things toddlers do when exploring a new and exciting world.

Distracted by the wonder of his discoveries, he has no way of knowing that his brother, driving some motorized monster truck or Humvee or Tank, is about to enter the frame, out of control and on a collision course with his sibling. And, as predicted a mere second or two earlier, the collision occurs, the toddler is thrown to the ground, and the big bro, now truly unable to control himself, continues to keep his foot pressed on the plastic peddle. Consequently, the toddler, now to some degree trapped under this motorized menace, must endure the indignity, not to mention the physical discomfort, of a Fisher Price tire grinding him further into a helpless heap in the grass.

Perhaps it's unfair to expect the adult operating the camera to react in time to stop the calamity. But, the reaction of the camera-person after the fact, more often than not, can be summarized by two implied thoughts:

1. "That is Fu--nny, so I'm going to laugh really hard!"

2. "Let's keep this puppy rolling, see where it leads -- this is
good stuff!"

Having never faced such a situation, I guess it's unfair of me to judge what I might do. In my mind, I envision myself acquiring some superhuman speed, so that the camera would remain, abandoned and floating in mid-air, Looney Tunes style, continuing to film as I stop one of my children from crushing the other. Ultimately, I guess I just don't have what it takes to win money on a video variety show.