Feb 27 2006
Spontaneity
At 3:56 p.m., I found that Curious George started at 4:20 p.m. at a theater that typically is 20 minutes away from our house. Ben was still in his footy pajamas and I was in my lounging clothes (very similar to pajamas, but I don’t sleep in them). Don’t judge. It was a lazy, relaxing day.
Until I decided we were going to that movie.
I’ve heard people say that spontaneity goes by the wayside when you become a parent. They only have it half right. If you’re talking the kind where you can decide an hour before 5 o’clock on Friday that you are going out of town for a weekend getaway with the guys or the wife, or whatever, then I would say that holds true.
With a few things working in your favor, however, you can be spontaneous with a toddler under your roof. Sure, hijinks inevitably ensue, but it’s spontaneous.
Sometimes your survival and theirs depends on the ability to adjust plans at the drop of a hat. In fact, it’s best to write all plans in pencil, not pen (even if it’s the remarkable Pilot G-tec C4. Get it? Remarkable? Oh, why do I even try?).
Sunday, I was sitting at home, wife in bed with a headache, playing with my son. He’s 2.5 years plus change. It was the first sunny day in the past seven, and we had just got through some long and heavy rains. It was fairly warm out, too, so I decided we should get out of the house — and go to a movie.
I know what you’re saying. “But Mark, you like backpacking and riding bikes and other outdoors stuff. What gives?”
Hey, sometimes a guy just gets the urge to take his boy to a show.
I asked Ben if he wanted to go see a movie about a monkey. He said he would, so we headed back to his room to get him a presentable set of clothes. He didn’t want to put his shoes on, I think because he didn’t understand that going to see a movie meant leaving the house. I managed to corral him long enough to ram on his Velcro-fastened sneakers.
Ben’s mommy said she didn’t mind if we went without her. That was good, because there was no way she would have been ready in time. Heck, the boy and I weren’t ready in time. She did, however, get up and re-stock his Pepperidge Farm Goldfish (those baked and not-fried fishies) in his diaper bag. They are one of the greatest secret weapons ever added to the parents’ arsenal.
We left at 4:10. Come on, lots of trailers, lots of trailers. (Those are previews, people. Stay with me.)
I drove the speed limit or perhaps a few MPH over, and Ben reminded me a few times that we were going to see a movie about a monkey, on “a big TV.” We squeezed in beside a Suburban at 4:28.
“Okay, Ben, now I’m going to carry you because we need to go fast,” I said. Now, I don’t condone running with a child in your arms, but I would have given some fast-walkers a run… er, um, walk, for their money. I have a very acrobatic twisting move planned out in my head for that time when I actually fall while carrying Ben. It’s quite beautiful, really.
Clearly oblivious to even the outside chance of such a fall, Ben said, “Okay.” He was excited.
A lady ahead of us in line bought tickets for herself and three children ranging in age from four to about 15 — for Madea’s Family Reunion, a PG-13 flick that came in tops at the US weekend box office by a long way.
I walked into the theater, carrying Ben, his diaper bag, and his booster seat. I could not see a thing except the screen. I waited for bright flashes that briefly illuminated the audience, and allowed my eyes to adjust. The diaper bag I held in my other arm bopped only a few people’s heads as I apologized my way to the seats. I was trailblazing.
Ben was mesmerized by the trailer for The Ant Bully.
After I sat, I saw a jacket in the seat where I wanted to plant Ben. “Is this seat taken?” I asked a little boy a few seats down.
He was very timid, but managed a barely audible, “Yes.”
Okay, I’ll just hold Ben in my lap the whole time. No, wait, bad plan.
I got up to find seats again. A couple were available next to the aisle a few rows back. Somehow, I managed to sit with Ben in my lap, set down the diaper bag, and set the booster in the aisle seat without dropping anything or anyone. I was on the inside seat to act as a buffer between Ben and a boy about three years old.
Ben protested loudly when I tried to put him in his booster, so he watched the whole movie from my lap. It was a pleasant film, refreshingly appropriate for kids all the way down to toddler age. I can’t recall any violence, except for a few menacing chases and accidental physical comedy on a par with Curly’s antics in “The Three Stooges.”
Ben got a bit restless and turned around for me to hold him. He watched for a few minutes with his neck twisted almost Linda Blair style, but seemed to need some comfort. I think maybe the images’ sheer size intimidated him. He let me put him back down in my lap and was okay after that.
Many of the children laughed out loud on several occasions, but Ben did so only once. I’m proud to say it was when Curious George wrecked a forklift and brought a crate of bananas crashing down. Otherwise, Ben’s only vocalizations were for color commentary. “That’s a helicopter, Daddy,” and “Daddy, that’s a big monkey,” were highlights. Usually these came when his voice was sure to fill the quiet theater. Then, of course, was Ben’s gaseous blast.
Cost of two matinee tickets: less than $6. Memory of Ben farting out loud: priceless.
On a side note, Jack Johnson was featured in most of the songs. Some were a bit saccharine, but it made for a nice focal point in an otherwise kid-only movie.
I recommend whole-heartedly that you take your small child (or a parent-approved one) to see Curious George in the theater. I didn’t cringe once at what my little boy was seeing on screen and, for me, that alone was worth twice what I paid.
(Note: spell check tried to correct “farting” to “farthing.”)
That really IS a damned fine pen, isn’t it??
You remember Jim Gramling’s story about falling with child in arms, don’t you? Mind you, he was up a tree with a beer in the other hand… I hope the move you have planned is at least as sweet as the one he pulled.
Sweet! I’ll have to take Allen. I know a few people with a farthing problem. :)
Indeed. I must say that, planning ahead *how* you are going to fall with a child in your arms is the *antithesis* of spontaneity! If I had had enough self-awareness on that fateful night to have planned out how I were to fall, I would have avoided the tragicomical situation entirely (by putting down the beer and holding on to the handrail, for example!).
On spontaneity: Mark, your observations are spot on — paradoxically, it seems to me that with kids, you have both the *necessity* of planning ahead as well as the ability to adapt your programming at the drop of a hat. Of course, you may only began to really appreciate this paradox when you have a couple more kids to drag around (to drag you around!).
Oh yes, I remember Jim’s story quite well — one of the funniest things I’ve read, and I must say he almost became an honorary southerner based on that event. Part of the redneck creed is that, no matter what happens, you DO NOT spill your beer. He might be the first to make it on the basis of effort alone. Amazing even now that I re-read it.
Alvis, I thought of you guys as we blasted down the street a few blocks from your house, but it was all so last-minute that I knew there was no way we would make it. Spontaneity has its drawbacks.
Glad you had such a great day with your son! Treasure them… they don’t last forever (so I find out).