Quite by accident the other day, I noticed that Jonas seems entranced by the beauty and excitement and wonder that is television.

Abby, Asher and I were just sitting around, watching one of the only six Backyardigans episodes in existence for the three billionth time, while Jonas crabbed and complained in his bouncy chair. The witching hour had begun – 4:30 PM – and, alas, it was too early for dinner, so I decided to drug my unhappy bunch into submission with a little computer animation.

The big kids immediately went into wide-eyed cerebral shutdown mode, as expected, but what I didn’t expect was for Jonas to be equally sedated. As soon as the baby heard the lilting strains of Uniqua singing "Float Flutter Fly," he quieted down immediately and fell asleep. We all did. I woke at 6 o’clock to three hungry shriekers. I felt guilty and elated all at the same time.

Is fresh-out-of-the-womb too young for TV, or rather should I be banning the idiot tube altogether for kids of all ages? It’s one of those serious parenting questions I can’t ever seem to find a satisfactory answer to, along with several others I’ve been perpetually pondering (like, Should you empty the entire bath and start over if a kid pees in it, just a little, and How bad is McDonald’s really?).

As for TV, I know that I’m just going to end up playing it by ear, like I always do. Try and limit it the best I can, I guess, though it’s so easy to overuse it as an in-house babysitter when things are getting crazy around here. I’m just worried I’m going to end up with three addicted drones who can’t hold either a normal conversation or a job in any field other than video game design...

Ay, there’s the rub.