I have always been an anti-TV militant.

So it's ironic, in a hi-def sort of way, that we have a 42-inch flat-screen television in our living room. The Technicolor behemoth is a gift from my in-laws, who wearied of our 1970 Sears console TV, its screen encased in a solid wood cabinet, its volume controlled by hand.

It was the television of my childhood, purchased by my parents two years before I was born and given to me and my husband, gratis, before we got married.

Now, every time I try to turn on our mini-movie screen, I get confused. There are three, four, sometimes five remote controls floating around. One for the DVD player, one for the TV, the VCR, the CD player. Too many acronyms.

So I’ve given up. The kids know not to even ask, which is just fine by me.

Growing up, my father had to put my younger brother on a “ TV diet.” My dad would hide the HBO guide from him. Meanwhile, I was bivouacked in my room, churning through Nancy Drew.

When my first child was born and I learned that the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends no television for kids younger than 2, I had no problem keeping the faith.

Even when the baby woke before 6 a.m. and a friend spoke with reverence of strapping her early riser into his bouncy seat and popping in a video.

Even when my 3-year-old and 5-year-old drive each other crazy and me even crazier.

Even when the deadline for this blog looms.

TV in our house is a special treat, once a week maybe, and usually less.

To his credit, my husband, somewhat of a TV junkie himself -- a Beauty and the Geek fanatic, would you believe it? – bought in to my no-TV rant. He made an exception, which I didn’t fight, for his weekly date with our 3-year-old. They cuddled on the couch while channeling American Idol. (She loves to sing; it was educational.)

I don’t know what it is that bothers me so much about my kids watching television. I think it’s partly the passivity of just sitting there, partly disdain for all the junky programming out there, partly reluctance on my part to sit down and watch with them to make sure the programming is appropriate.

Considering my death-to-TV stand, even I don’t understand how it’s happened that my kids have evolved to the point of having free reign at another screen: the computer.

They might see stuff they shouldn’t see on TV – guns, fighting, sex – but it’s just as prevalent online, where skanky people can also contact them in real-time.

Still, I embrace my hypocrisy.

That the Internet has had a profound impact on our generation is old news. That it’s a constant companion, as familiar to the next generation as Mister Rogers was to us, is more of a moving target when babies are tapping away on Leapfrog computers and preschoolers are hanging out online in Webkinz World.

A few years ago, when my 5-year-old son would act out various imaginary events, he’d invoke cyberspace.

“Mama, do you want to see a great white shark breaching, then eating a seal?” he’d say.

“Sure,” I’d answer.

“Then click on Internet,” he’d instruct, which meant that said adult was supposed to pantomime a mouse-click.

So far, my 3-year-old daughter’s relationship with the computer consists of creating the occasional Hello Kitty landscape with me or watching Elmo use the potty on www.sesamestreet.com while ensconced on her grandma’s lap.

Pretty innocuous.

But I’m not so sure about my son.

He’s just figured out how to read and a little knowledge, especially to someone newly familiar with the printed word, can be a dangerous thing.

While I’m stirring the mac and cheese or loading the dryer, he’s booting up the computer to watch Carolina Hurricanes’ hockey highlights and bookmarking his favorite sports sites. Last week, my husband found him watching a clip of the St. Louis Cardinals winning the World Series from who knows when. He’d Googled “St. Louis Cardinals”, clicked on “video,” then selected a youtube offering.

But there’s tons of stuff on youtube that’s decidedly more questionable.

The other day, my 3-year-old got curious.

How do giraffes have babies?

I typed “giraffe birth” into youtube. One kid on each knee, we watched a long-necked, four-legged babe being born at the San Francisco Zoo.

I checked on dinner and returned to find both kids rapt in front of a clip entitled “woman gives birth to a rabbit!”

More than 395,000 of their Internet buddies had watched it too. There were no stats on how many were 5 and under.

Bonnie appears every Monday on TriangleMom2Mom.