Not-Netflix Natters (for Grown Ups)

When a child asks to watch a programme, borrow a book or buy a toy, whose choice is it really? Who really shapes children's choices? The child chooses. But not in isolation. Behind every choice sits a wider ecosystem:parents, siblings, friends, schools, libraries, authors, platforms, algorithms and advertising. Parents remain the most important early influence. Through conversation, shared reading, play and daily routines, they help shape what children believe is enjoyable an

Spending time with my grandchildren, over the past few weeks, reminded me of something simple but important. Children do not need constant stimulation. They need books. Play.Laughter. Adventure. Shared experiences.

Children don’t just fall in love with characters. They fall in love with worlds. When a child asks to watch something again, they are asking to return to a place that feels familiar, surprising and worth revisiting.

I saw this with my grandchildren watching The Magic Faraway Tree. What stayed with us were not just the characters, but the wonderfully unexpected details that still make us laugh. The same is true of Bluey, The Creature Cases and Gabby's Dollhouse. Each creates a world that feels complete and alive. Children don’t just watch these stories. They enter them.They imagine themselves inside them.They return to them again and again. When a child says: “Can we watch that again?” Th

Platforms measure clicks, viewing minutes and completion rates. Regulators track complaints and compliance. These numbers matter. But they are not how children measure stories.

When we ask what is appropriate for children, we are really asking two different questions. What gets made.And what gets watched. Before a programme reaches our homes, it passes through commissioners, editors, lawyers and regulators. Their job is to manage risk and protect children. That matters. But once a story enters the home, a quieter authority takes over. Parents decide what feels right for their child.Children decide what they want to watch again. That is where trust l

Across children’s literature and television, the stories that endure are driven by misjudgement, embarrassment, exaggeration, and recovery. Think of the flawed protagonists in books by Roald Dahl, the outrageous comedy of David Walliams, or television series such as Bluey and The Creature Cases.

Authentic storytelling does not mean chaos or carelessness. It means emotional recognisability — characters who make mistakes, feel awkward, misjudge situations, and grow imperfectly. Children repeatedly return to stories that allow exaggeration, humour, and emotional risk. They drift away from stories that are overly smoothed or heavily explained.

Series One of Not-Netflix Natters began with a simple question:Why does so much family and children’s television feel unsatisfying, even when it’s well made? Across eight episodes, I explored family viewing, quiet stories, adventure, book adaptations, and special-occasion television — using examples. This blog sums up the series.

In Not-Netflix Natter – Episode 7, I explore why special-occasion television — from Christmas classics to children’s holiday stories — mattered so much for families, and what we lost when everything became on-demand. What story still marks time in your family memory?

What Screens Can Relearn from Books Some children’s stories stay with families because they trust children with pace, silence, and meaning. In this episode of Not-Netflix Natter, I explore what screens can relearn from books, using much-loved adaptations of Julia Donaldson’s stories as gentle case studies.

Children’s adventure stories have long captured imaginations, transporting young readers to worlds filled with excitement, challenge, and discovery. These stories offer more than just entertainment; they help children explore emotions, develop problem-solving skills, and build resilience. Yet, despite their enduring appeal, the way adults engage with children’s adventure has shifted. This change affects how often and how freely children experience these stories on their own t

I stopped watching Doctor Who not because I stopped caring — but because I started feeling lectured. That may sound blunt, so let me explain.

Quiet children’s stories haven’t vanished because children stopped liking them. They’ve faded because television now rewards speed, familiarity, and repeatability — and quiet stories ask for time.

There is still good children’s television being made. Across the major streaming platforms, thoughtful content exists: educational series, gentle preschool animation, and programmes that encourage curiosity and learning. These shows understand that children are not passive consumers, but attentive, thoughtful viewers. That matters — and it deserves recognition. Alongside this, however, a different pattern has emerged.

During the holidays, I tried to find something new to watch with my grandchildren. Not something noisy. Not something designed to hold attention by sheer volume. Just a story with warmth, imagination, and care. I didn’t find it. What I found instead was a familiar loop: recycled Christmas films, pale imitations of once-loved formats, and old stories resurfaced as if novelty now lies in re-packaging alone.