Why Searching For Baby Reindeer Episodes Nearly Broke My Brain

I had my arms elbow-deep in a basket of spit-up stained laundry, trying desperately to find the matching half of a tiny sock, when my four-year-old started screaming at the Roku remote. I was half-listening, calculating how many Etsy shop orders I could pack before the baby woke up from her nap, when I heard him yell into the little voice-activation microphone. He was demanding that the TV find some baby reindeer episodes for him to watch, which sounded innocent enough for a Tuesday afternoon in late fall.

I didn't think anything of it. I figured he wanted some old Rankin/Bass stop-motion holiday cartoon, or maybe a weird YouTube compilation of actual animals in the snow. But when I turned around with a crumpled pair of fleece pajamas in my hand, I dropped them right on the living room rug.

The screen wasn't showing a cute little animated fawn with a red nose. It had queued up a dark, moody title card for a 2024 Netflix drama, and right there in the corner was a giant, glaring TV-MA rating box, followed by a list of content warnings that included sexual violence, severe psychological trauma, and heavy drug use. This is not a children's cartoon. I practically dove across the coffee table, knocking over my lukewarm coffee, to snatch the remote out of his sticky hands before the auto-play countdown hit zero.

The day the streaming algorithm lost its mind

Whoever named this show, bless their heart, clearly doesn't have young children running around their house. I'm just gonna be real with you—when you put the words "baby" and "reindeer" together, every single parent on the planet assumes it's going to be a wholesome, mind-numbing holiday special that we can put on for twenty minutes while we scrub dried oatmeal off the kitchen floor.

Instead, the streaming algorithm hears those keywords and immediately serves up a critically acclaimed but deeply disturbing psychological thriller based on a comedian's real-life experience with a severe stalker. It has a cocktail of hard drugs, from crack to LSD, and depicts prolonged abuse that no adult should watch without bracing themselves, let alone a toddler who just wanted to see an animal eat a carrot.

It's genuinely infuriating that we live in a digital age where we've to cross-reference every single title that pops up on our family television. Parents are already so universally exhausted, operating on four hours of broken sleep and whatever leftover chicken nuggets we scavenged off a paper plate, that our brains don't have the bandwidth to play defense against a television show disguised as a Christmas special.

Of course, the perfect Instagram moms will say I shouldn't even have a TV in the living room or let my kid hold the remote, but those women clearly don't have three kids under five and a bladder that leaks every time they sneeze.

What Dr. Miller said about scary stuff and tiny brains

My oldest son, Wyatt, is basically a walking cautionary tale at this point. He's the reason we had to put a padlock on the pantry and the reason I'm so paranoid about the TV. Once, at a routine checkup down at the county clinic, I asked our doctor about what happens when kids see stuff they aren't supposed to.

Dr. Miller told me that a young, developing brain literally can't process the difference between a high-definition scary image and real life. From what I understood of her explanation, their little nervous systems just absorb the visual trauma and the sudden loud noises, jumbling it all up into a massive stress response. I don't pretend to know the exact neurobiology of it all, but it seems like accidental exposure to adult hostility just totally overloads their circuits. Honestly, half the time I think watching that heavy stuff gives me nightmares, so I can only imagine what it does to a four-year-old. It usually just leads to three straight weeks of night terrors that absolutely nobody in my house has the energy to deal with.

My grandma always used to sit on her porch and tell me, "Jessica, that television is just a cheap babysitter that's gonna charge you interest later." I used to roll my eyes at her because she still writes paper checks at the grocery store and refuses to use a microwave, but lord, she was right about screens. They're a trap.

Physical things that won't give your family night terrors

After the near-miss with the Netflix incident, I decided I was completely done with relying on the TV to buy me twenty minutes of peace. I'm leaning hard back into tangible, physical things for the kids. If you're trying to pivot away from digital traps and toward actual items that won't traumatize your household, check out Kianao's organic baby clothes collection.

Speaking of physical things, let me tell you what actually works in my house. When you're trying to keep a baby happy without a screen, comfort is literally everything. I've been dressing my youngest in the Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit Sleeveless Infant Onesie, and it's been a game-changer. I'm incredibly budget-conscious, so spending money on fancy baby clothes usually makes me twitch, but this one is actually worth it. Synthetic fabrics give my baby these weird red eczema patches on her shoulders, but this organic cotton is so soft and breathable. It has 5% elastane so it actually stretches over her giant head without a wrestling match. You just wash it in cold water and it holds up perfectly.

If you need an activity that isn't Roku-based, the Wooden Baby Gym is fantastic. My middle child used a plastic, battery-operated nightmare gym that blinked strobe lights and played a tinny song that still haunts my dreams. This rainbow wooden set is totally silent. It has these cute little animal hanging toys and smooth wooden rings that they can bat at. It looks earthy and neutral in my living room, and it doesn't require a Wi-Fi connection.

And for the teething phase, which is its own kind of horror show, I've strong opinions. I bought one of those trendy bubble tea silicone teethers once, and honestly, it was just okay. It was a bit too bulky for my daughter's tiny hands to grip, bless her heart, and she kept dropping it on the dog. But the Panda Teether Silicone Chew Toy? Absolute lifesaver. It's totally flat, so she can really hold it herself without dropping it every four seconds. It's food-grade silicone, totally non-toxic, and I just throw it in the dishwasher when it gets gross. Sometimes I toss it in the fridge for ten minutes when her gums are really swollen, and it buys me enough quiet time to genuinely finish a cup of coffee.

How to lock down your TV before the holidays

Before winter hits and your kids start asking the remote for reindeer videos every single afternoon, you've to take preventative measures. You basically need to snatch that voice remote away from the toddler, mash the menu buttons until you dig up the profile settings, and lock your adult Netflix account with a four-digit PIN code that your kids won't guess on the first try so they can't accidentally plunge into a psychological thriller while you turn your back to stir a pot of macaroni and cheese.

It's annoying, and yes, it means you've to type in a code every time you want to watch your own shows after they go to bed, but it's infinitely better than paying for a child therapist because they saw ten seconds of a TV-MA show.

Before you go dig up your streaming passwords, browse Kianao's collections to find some actual, safe baby items that you can hold in your hands.

Questions you probably have right now

What seriously happens in that reindeer show on Netflix?

Look, I'm not going to get into the gritty details because this is a baby brand blog and not a true crime podcast, but it's a very heavy, very dark drama about a man being relentlessly stalked and abused. It deals with hard drugs, sexual assault, and severe mental illness. It's a fantastic show for mature adults who want to watch a psychological thriller, but it's literal poison for a child's eyes. Keep it far, far away from your kids.

Are the voice remotes really that sensitive to kids' voices?

Lord, yes. My four-year-old mumbles half his words and the Roku remote still understands him perfectly. He once ordered forty dollars' worth of digital monster truck episodes before I even realized what was happening. The algorithms are designed to catch keywords like "baby" and "reindeer" and just immediately start playing whatever is most popular, regardless of the rating. Never trust the voice remote.

How do you explain to a toddler that a cartoon-sounding show isn't for them?

I don't even try to reason with them anymore, I just lie. I told my oldest that the TV was broken and we had to read books instead. When they're screaming because they want to watch something specific, trying to explain the concept of TV-MA ratings to a person who eats old cheerios off the floor is a waste of breath. Just distract them with a snack or a physical toy and move on.

Why is organic cotton genuinely better for kids anyway?

From my own messy experience, it's all about the chemicals. Regular clothes are treated with so much junk that it flares up my kids' sensitive skin, especially in the dry Texas winter. Organic cotton just breathes better and doesn't have the weird synthetic dyes. It costs a little more upfront, but when you aren't buying three different expensive eczema creams to fix the rashes caused by cheap clothes, it balances out the budget pretty quick.

Can I just delete the app entirely so they don't click it?

You can, but let's be real—sometimes Mama needs to watch her own shows at nine o'clock at night while eating hidden chocolate chips out of the baking cabinet. Just set a PIN code on your specific profile. It takes two minutes and saves you from having a heart attack the next time your kid grabs the remote.