Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was this Moocowzebub coming along the road ...
You know that speech by Albert Brooks in Broadcast News where he suggests that if the devil showed up on earth, he wouldn't have horns and a pointy tail, but would be nice looking and genial and "get all the great women" -- and that he'd vie for our souls by getting us to lower our standards, bit by bit? Sometimes I think there's a special demon -- call him, I dunno, Moocowzebub -- who besets parents and whose mission is precisely the one that Albert Brooks describes -- he gets us to lower our standards, bit by bit.
First, there was the Revenge of the Sith incident, in which my daughters wore my husband down by begging to see Episode III every day for months. Then there was the Bratz incident, in which I told myself it was okay for my daughter to get a Bratz fleece hat and gloves because it wasn't a Bratz doll and, besides, she'd never wear them (wrong on the second count). Now comes the Fellowship of the Ring incident, in which my husband, babysitting the girls while I was out with his mother, let our youngest watch The Fellowship of the Ring with him. That one broke my heart, because I had cherished this idea that they wouldn't be allowed to see the movies before they read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. And, of course, I would have said it was way too dark and frightening for a four year old, but that's all water over the dam, or under the Bridge at Khazad-Dum, at this point.
At least, according to my husband's account, she was quite interested in the story and asked a question every three minutes or so. She reasoned, for instance, that Arwen's horse was faster than the Black Riders, and after the incident with the Balrog at Khazad-Dum, she asked, "Who is going to lead them now?" And, rather like Gimli son of Gloin, she was completely enamored of Galadriel.
I think such consolations are only the further work of the insidious Moocowzebub, though.
[Edited to change title of post.]
First, there was the Revenge of the Sith incident, in which my daughters wore my husband down by begging to see Episode III every day for months. Then there was the Bratz incident, in which I told myself it was okay for my daughter to get a Bratz fleece hat and gloves because it wasn't a Bratz doll and, besides, she'd never wear them (wrong on the second count). Now comes the Fellowship of the Ring incident, in which my husband, babysitting the girls while I was out with his mother, let our youngest watch The Fellowship of the Ring with him. That one broke my heart, because I had cherished this idea that they wouldn't be allowed to see the movies before they read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. And, of course, I would have said it was way too dark and frightening for a four year old, but that's all water over the dam, or under the Bridge at Khazad-Dum, at this point.
At least, according to my husband's account, she was quite interested in the story and asked a question every three minutes or so. She reasoned, for instance, that Arwen's horse was faster than the Black Riders, and after the incident with the Balrog at Khazad-Dum, she asked, "Who is going to lead them now?" And, rather like Gimli son of Gloin, she was completely enamored of Galadriel.
I think such consolations are only the further work of the insidious Moocowzebub, though.
[Edited to change title of post.]
posted by Kate Marie | 12:54 PM | Permalink
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2 comments
2 Comments:
Be strong, KM. Don't give in further and your young 'uns will forget the few slips you've made. But you have to be consistent long enough for amnesia to set in. This sounds like an excellent project for Lent.
Good idea, CIV. I always give up something (usually sweets) for Lent, but your idea is more difficult and more worthwhile.
I should say, though, that the primary reasons I was upset about my four year old watching The Fellowship didn't have to do with the quality of the film itself. It's a great movie, and one I would be happy to have the kids watch (and love) it, once they could handle the scariness and once they had experienced the great work on which the films are based.
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