One of the cardinal rules I follow in my house when it comes to exposing Toshi or Allen to new media is that I never tell them what they're going to watch or what they have to watch. Never.
Instead, I give them choices. And let's be honest... I stack the deck. I filter out things I find objectionable so they're never even in the pool of options that are presented to Toshi to choose from. That's just basic parental common sense. And the options I present them with are all things they could enjoy or that they've already asked about. That's a big part of the dialogue I have with Toshi in my office these days.
He's begun to browse.
"Daddy." Only these days, that two syllable hailing signal is more a sound, a siren full of want that is about eight syllables longer, whined at full volume. "Daaaaaaaaddeeeeeeeeee." It means, "I am about to ask you for something and I'm letting you know in advance that if I don't get it, I'm going to make sure you hear about it."
"What's this purple movie?"
"Bring it to me."
"I like this one. I think it's maybe my favorite, so I think I should watch it with you."
"This is 'Beetlejuice.'"
"Yeah. 'Beetlejuice.' That's the one I like."
"I don't think so, pal."
"I really like it when we can watch 'Beetlejuice.' Really, Daddy. Tonight, okay, Daddy? Deal?" He knows that if I say, "Deal" back to him, that's binding in a court of law, and he's always fishing for it as a result. "Deal, Daddy?"
"I don't think so."