Why I Will Never Take My Kids to a PG Movie AgainJen at PIWTPITT
The other day my mom offered to take me and the kids to the movies. We went to the “fancy” theater that my kids have never been to.
We sounded like the Clampetts when we walked in the door.
“Whoa. Fancy!” Gomer exclaimed.
“Mommy! There are TWO ladies’ bathrooms in this movie theater!” Adolpha informed me.
Gomer saw the unique self serve snack area with bottled sports drinks and salads along with soda, popcorn and candy. “Look mom! There’s a grocery store in this theater!”
Oops, I really need to get the kids out a bit more.
We went to see We Bought a Zoo. I was a little concerned, because I usually take my kids to G movies and this one was PG. I’d been assured by people who had seen this movie the day before how “perfect” it was for kids and frankly, I had no desire to sit through The Muppets, so I took their word for it. I probably should have read a review or two, but that would have been too easy and then I’d have nothing to write about today.
In case you can’t tell from the title, the protagonist in the movie buys a zoo. So naturally there are lots of animals in the movie. Every single time an animal came on the screen, the baby sitting behind us would yell out what animal is was: “Oooh, monkey! Mama, monkey!! Lion! Rarr!”
The first time it was adorable. The second time it was not as adorable. By the 30th time all I could think was, “How much did I (OK, my mom) pay to sit here and not hear the movie because these people were too cheap to get a sitter today?”
The baby not only told us the name of every animal that came on the screen (he got them all right, by the way – his parents must be proud of that at least) he talked loudly and cried when the movie got boring for him (i.e., no animals on screen). From what I could tell there were 2 adults with 2 children. Why in the world did both adults need to come? Couldn’t one have stayed home with the little guy? Come on, I get bringing him if they were seeing The Muppets or the Chipmunks, but this was really not a little kid’s movie. Maybe that was the reason why he was there. Maybe one parent was willing to take the hit to stay home and miss The Muppets, but they both wanted to see the zoo movie?
I’m sure the wife said something like, “You know how much I love Matt Damon and Capuchin monkeys. You should stay home with him.”
“Oh no! Not happening. He’ll need to eat and we both know I don’t have what he wants. Besides, I love Cameron Crowe movies. They’re so heart-warming.”
“Hmmm, maybe we should just go see The Muppets. Castor has been begging to see it since he saw the commercial a month ago.”
“Ugh. I’d rather stick forks in my eyes before I see that movie.”
“I just don’t know if this one is appropriate for a 3 year old and an 18 month old baby.”
“Eh, it will be fine. Let’s go.” (OK, I realize this movie was borderline appropriate for my kids, but they’re 5 and 7. I would have definitely known better than to take a baby and a toddler — even without reading a review.)
And go they did. They sat there and let that baby talk, yell, cry, sing, etc. for well over three quarters of that movie. Finally, after people four rows ahead of them started turning around and looking back at them, they got the hint and took the baby and left the theater. (I’m surprised people didn’t applaud.)
They should not have been there. In fact, we should not have been there. It was really not a movie for my kids. The plot was a little much for my kids and for the last half hour Adolpha just kept asking when it would be over.
I specifically asked the person who recommended this movie for my kids, “Is there any noticeable bad language? They’re really into learning ‘new words’ these days and I’d rather not have any new ones to explain.”
“Oh no, it was perfectly fine. It’s Cameron Crowe! He makes such positive movies,” was the reply I got.
Uh huh. At the end of the movie, a 7-year-old girl calls a man a “d*ck.” Loudly. Prominently. There is no mistaking what she said.
In the quiet of the theater you could hear 7-year-old Gomer ask his grandmother, “What’s a d*ck?”
My mother replied, “Ask your mother.” Ugh. Someone please punch me.
Be sure to read my daily rants at People I Want to Punch in the Throat where you’re sure to laugh and/or might be offended (it’s where you can find my R-rated rants).
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