My mom didn’t let us watch whatever we wanted very much when I was a kid. This wasn’t anything moral or sociological or anything like that; it’s that, for one thing, we only had one TV for most of my childhood, and Mom wanted to be able to watch what she wanted. The news, mostly. I was the only kid in elementary school who knew what Sam Donaldson looked like. There was also the fact that Mom knew full well that we’d never go outside if we were allowed to just sit and watch TV, since none of us are terribly athletic sorts. At least we’d go read under a tree.

That said, I did watch a fair amount of garbage as a kid, and I think it was good for me. Why? Because I learned to recognize garbage. Obviously, this isn’t a universal truth. The shows some of my adult friends watch are pretty clear proof of that. And I do know one or two people with very good taste who were brought up on an extremely wholesome pop culture diet. I think they’re a lot more rare, though, because I think most of the people brought up that way grow up to devour their generation’s questionable pop culture in adulthood.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. There is nothing quite like the pleasure of watching something you loved as a kid and haven’t seen in forever only to discover that you actually had good taste on that one. Or vice versa—I never did like that Bugs Bunny cartoon with the gremlin, and watching it with Simon this week has verified that, yes, it’s terrible. But I think broader experiences are usually better, and that includes the terrible as well as the good.

It also, and I don’t think we can underestimate this, teaches you modesty about your own taste. You are much less likely to brag on Facebook about how the only true cinema is the French New Wave if your best friend from elementary school can remind you of the summer the two of you watched The Care Bears Movie seventy-five times. Sure, you’ve outgrown it, but it’s there. Lurking. Probably someone has a picture. Or maybe there’s a picture of your Rainbow Brite-themed eighth birthday. Who am I to judge?

I do see merits of keeping an eye on what your kid is watching and being discerning for them. Yeah, Simon probably watches some dreadful stuff with me because of the Great Library Project, but he doesn’t watch R-rated dreadful stuff with me now that he’s old enough to be paying attention. And if he got into certain things, we’d end up having talks about the content. Treatment of women, treatment of minorities, treatment of people in general. Because I’m totally going to be That Mom.

However, I literally do not remember being forbidden to watch anything as a child beyond R-rated stuff. Mom didn’t like GI Joe, but the reason we weren’t allowed to watch it was that it was on before school, and she was watching Today. Or, you know, we needed to get to school. Mom put up with a lot; my younger sister watched Family Matters for years. Friday and Saturday evening were ours, and an hour or two Saturday morning, and weekend afternoons if Mom didn’t have something she wanted to watch. And we watched whatever we wanted, essentially, during those times.

Things are different now. We’re already having to have the conversation about when Simon gets his own computer. (For starters, after he can use a mouse!) We’re going to have an uphill battle keeping track of what he’s being exposed to and when and how, and I know that. But what I don’t worry about is that he’ll get fixated on some cheesy corporate hackery made to sell him toys. Of course he will. He’ll be a kid. And I really do believe it’ll be good for him in the long run, even if I get awfully sick of whatever-it-is.