I’m not sure if you guys know this, but I once hosted a podcast. I think we made…7 episodes? The idea was kind of genius. All of my neighbour’s husbands and I watched Dawson’s Creek from the beginning and chatted following each episode. Genius, right? It was pretty funny, except what happened was that instead of everyone loving it, the men decided that they absolutely could not stomach the show so some of them just didn’t watch and some of them just complained about how bad it was for an hour.
But here’s the thing. Towards the end of each episode we would veer far, far away from Dawson
and closer and closer to other fun things like pop culture, and parenting, and current events. It was great! So, after a brief
really, really long hiatus that was not my choice, I came up with a second genius idea. Resurrect the podcast, but remove the Dawson’s Creek bit. I suggested that each person bring a topic to talk about and we’d just have a good time with it. But, well, it didn’t happen. Again, something that was not my choice. My friends obviously have those little things called lives. I do not have one of those.
I, instead, have many pairs of comfy jammies and I have a treasure trove of good podcast topic ideas that I haven’t been able to use.
It’s a damn shame, really.
I wanted to talk about those people who take their kids to inappropriate movies. Those people. You know exactly who I’m talking about if you partake in any social media channels. There are always people tweeting about the parents who brought their kindergarteners to see the midnight showing of Deadpool.
But you guys, here’s the thing.
I was once that parent. Twice.
When Emily was waaaaay to young to see Swing Awakening, I took her to see Spring Awakening. She was too young to understand some of the more adult-y concepts, and truthfully, she was only there for the music, the songs that she already knew and had been singing for years. Girl was a Lea Michelle and Jonathan Groff fan way before Glee and Hamilton. When we walked in, the usher handing us our programs was horrified, and actually suggested that we leave as the content of the play was inappropriate for her. I avoided eye contact and continued along to our seats. And, just as I suspected, she sang along (quietly) with the songs she loved, and noticed nothing else. It wasn’t my finest parenting moment, clearly, but the other day while she was dancing around the kitchen singing Mama Who Bore Me we laughed about that day, and she thanked me for taking her.
The second time was only few months ago when we took our teenagers to see The Book of Mormon.
We have been listening to this one in our car for years and years and years. But, as any good parent would do, I always skipped over the 3-4 really offensive songs, and only allowed them to listen to the clean ones. And the clean ones? They are excellent. And the truth is that you really haven’t lived until you’ve heard my daughters sing every single word to All-American Prophet in perfect duet. (Except that one time when someone stopped them right in the middle and told them to sing something about Jews instead. Really.) I didn’t actually remember the super dirty songs since, as you know, I’ve been skipping them for years. It was only once we were in our seats, deep into the play when I was like OHHHHHHH NOW I REMEMBER LET’S JUST HOPE THEY DON’T NOTICE. They noticed, of course, but I’m happy to say we’ve gone back to skipping them in the car.
Again, not my finest parenting moment.
But I guess to be a teeny bit fair to me, now that I think about it, I come by this honestly, since the HAIR soundtrack was played on a loop in my house when I was way too young to know what sodomy was…and I saw Flashdance in the theater…when I was…about 5 years old. And I seem to recall a certain teenaged babysitter who really loved horror movies who let us stay up way past our bedtimes and introduced us to the wonderful world of The Shining.
You’ll be happy to know that I didn’t take any of my children to see Deadpool.