When we started watching “True Blood” as a family, I asked myself, “Is a premium cable show about vampires truly appropriate for kids?” But then I thought, Scooby Doo catches vampires. Count Chocula is a vampire. How bad can it be? True, the gory violence and rough sex was upsetting. Still, better they learn about these things with us rather than hearing about them from other kindergartners, right? Besides, not long ago we were having problems with the biting issue. I thought it was an important object lesson: this is what happens when you bite people. Do you want to turn into a hideous monster? Now stop crying before I give you something to cry about.

Okay, I'm kidding. I would never tell my kids “don't cry or I'll give you something to cry about.” That's so 80s.

And they've never seen “True Blood.” We don't even get HBO. The strongest vampire fare our kids watch is “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” It's basic cable, so the violence isn't as gory and the sex isn't as rough. “See, girls,” I tell them, “when someone goes to bite you, just flip around a lot then jab them with a stick.” They're never too young to learn about self-defense. And by emphasizing the flips, we keep them motivated for Rec & Ed gymnastics.

All right, no. Our kids don't watch “Buffy.” They don't watch “Blade” or “Twilight” or “Vampire High.” We are responsible Ann Arbor parents. We understand that vampires are not suitable for children. That's why we refuse to turn the channel to “Sesame Street.” How would my daughters react to a fanged Count whose maniacal laughter causes thunder as he counts bats in his creepy castle? What was Jerry Falwell thinking in going after Tinky Winky while this creature of the night indoctrinates children with arithmomania on PBS's most famous show?

No, that's not true either. If my kids don't watch "Sesame Street" anymore it's because they have instead embraced the intellectual sophistication of the "Super Friends."

“Scott,” you may ask, “where are you going with this?” Am I making a point about how families need to set reasonable yet flexible standards of what's appropriate for kids? Not really, because I think that's fairly self-evident. I'm just having fun. This is the way most conversations about parenting go when I'm talking to my friend Mary. We play a game of one-upsmanship to say the most insane thing possible. “Yes, the boy's crying again, but how does he expect me to light this cigarette, nurse the baby, and wipe his nose all at once?” Or: "Stop crying before I give you something to cry about." I think it's a healthy form of self-parody. We know as human parents we are screwing our kids up. But we're not screwing them up that badly.

Meanwhile, what's with vampires lately? Sure, they're one of Western culture's most flexible and enduring nightmares, but even so, their pop culture cachet over the past decade has surely spiked. What about our current moment makes vampires so infectious for adults and youth alike? I don't ask merely because last night my wife and I (after the kids went to bed, I swear) watched "True Blood" for five straight hours. Nor because my wife has read all the "Twilight" books 3 times and quoted the movie so often I can quote it back verbatim. Nor because I just found out that the CW is debuting a new vampire show aimed at teenage girls this fall.

For Halloween, my 8-year-old daughter wants to be a vampire.

I'm cool with that. Last year both girls were glittery princesses, so I think vampire is a step in the right direction. I asked her today why she wants to be a vampire, and the answer (as it is so often) was “I don't know.” But I think it boils down to the teeth. Months ago, she got a set of plastic vampire teeth from one of those fifty cent vending machines in a grocery store lobby. Essentially, whatever cape or wig or pancake makeup we apply to vamp her up will just be accessories for the teeth.

So then, what is it about those teeth? In college I spent a summer sweeping hallways in a local apartment complex. (“Apartment community,” the boss's voice still corrects in my head.) One day a kid no older than 6 or 7 stepped alone from his doorway into the hall I was lazily sweeping. He looked at me and bared his teeth. His plastic vampire teeth. Then he charged. He didn't make a sound, he didn't smile, he didn't do anything to suggest that this was a game. He silently charged with his mouth full of plastic pointy teeth. What would you do? I took off the other way. Up these stairs, down the next, back and forth through hallways until I was afraid my legs would give out and the kid would sink his fangs into my skin.

Instead, he got bored and went to throw rocks in the parking lot. That is, in the bright sunlight, which seems to prove he wasn't a real vampire. But you know? I'm still not convinced.

Scott Beal is a stay-at-home dad who recommends you really check out that Twilight link.