I wear my sword at my side.

When friends learned that we were courting disaster becoming parents, we were peppered with all kinds of dire prognostications and instructions to bid a fond farewell to the chief currency of the childless: leisure time. "Say goodbye to X," we were told, "because you won't be savouring any of that for a looong while;" where X stood for sex, novels, music not specifically made for developing ears, movies, TV, etc.

I am pleased to report that this, as with a great deal of advice we've received, is a load of crap.

Granted, our ability to continue consuming the media we love is entirely dependent on smooth-edged digital totems lovingly wrapped in satin-lined bags. These wonderful little talismans &mdash specifically, the 60Gb video iPod C lovingly, presciently, wonderfully got me for Christmas &mdash have allowed us to keep up with movies, TV and (to a lesser extent) music. A constant companion to C while she nurses and me while babygirl naps in the saddle, this device has been our 3-square-inch portal into pop culture.

Through it, we've watched dozens of movies and entire seasons of shows we'd have otherwise missed, alleviating some of the inevitable sense of isolation that comes with becoming new parents and finding oneself marooned in the living room &mdash at least during the claustrophobic winter months.