PropaganDay Trip
John didn't have a wedding today, which means that when we woke up the kids woke us up this morning, the whole unfettered day stretched before us like a vast, inviting landscape. Of course, in the sweltering August heat, it looked more like hell a desert, so we opted for an indoor activity and decided to drive 90 minutes to a science museum-slash-omnidome-slash-planetarium a co-worker was recently raving about to me.
While we were sitting at the breakfast table discussing all of the inevitable outcomes of a day trip and whether we were willing to stomach them (primarily: no nap for the kids, potential resulting public humiliation), Bryce and Quinn watched Saturday morning television. They aren't used to seeing commercials, because most of what they see on TV is movies or PBS programming. The more they are exposed to Saturday morning network cartoon programming, the more I hear things like what I heard this morning as Bryce raced in and interrupted our breakfast conversation:
"MOM! I need to get Skechers so I don't have to spend time lacing my shoes! It's so much faster that way! I really need those shoes, mom."
I think I might have scratched a little varnish off the dining table when I slammed my fork down and ran shrieking out of the room towards the TV. I grabbed the nearest DVD and put it in: "You guys can watch Super Friends until dad and I are ready to go in a few minutes!"
An hour later, in the car, the kids were throwing a toy back and forth and I confiscated it. From the back seat, Bryce said, "I'll just get it with my lasso, I'm Wonder Woman! A HA HA HA HA!!" CRAP. So much for thwarting unwanted behaviors and mentalities by "controlling" what they watch.
When we got to the museum, we bought our omnidome theater tickets; we had a choice between a movie about ancient Greece or a movie about a fighter pilot training mission. Stupidly, I asked the museum employee which one would be more enjoyable for younger kids. "The fighter pilot one is more exciting," she said. Oh, okay. I am a thoughtless drone and so I will do whatever the museum employee says without putting any thought into the ramifications. Fighter pilot it is! In our defense, since it was an omnidome movie, we assumed most of it would be stomach-churning sequences of jets zooming through the sky. Within two minutes of sitting in the theater, though, I was kicking myself. The one message I consistently tell the kids is that we don't FIGHT, it's not okay to FIGHT, we don't want to be aggressors, there is always a thoughtful solution, it is NEVER OKAY TO FIGHT OR HURT. NEVER, even if those around you are doing it. The message of the fighter pilot movie revolved around "the mission," we need to complete our mission, it's great to shoot the enemy, but if the bomb doesn't hit the target, none of us have completed our mission or destroyed the "bad guys." OH MY GOD, NNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Luckily, it was a poorly written, produced, and edited film, and the kids were pretty bored. Quinn spent most of his time saying, in the very quiet, still theater full of irritated older kids and adults who just wanted to see fighter pilots bomb the bad guys can't you shut your kid up? (Waaah. Turn on the news, we're bombing "bad guys" all over the place.), "I WANT POPCORN. I can have popcorn? Are we getting popcorn? I WANT POPCORN!"
We left early (about 15 minutes into the military recruiting -- uh, I mean, omnidome -- film), but I brought it up later to Bryce: "What did you think of that plane movie?"
"It was good."
"Hmm. Well, I didn't really like how much shooting and fighting they wanted to do."
"Well, mom! They were just having battles, so that means it only lasts a day. And then they wait, like, a week before they have another one."
Good lord. I think I preferred the demands for Skechers and the lasso-wielding Wonder Woman impersonations.
While we were sitting at the breakfast table discussing all of the inevitable outcomes of a day trip and whether we were willing to stomach them (primarily: no nap for the kids, potential resulting public humiliation), Bryce and Quinn watched Saturday morning television. They aren't used to seeing commercials, because most of what they see on TV is movies or PBS programming. The more they are exposed to Saturday morning network cartoon programming, the more I hear things like what I heard this morning as Bryce raced in and interrupted our breakfast conversation:
"MOM! I need to get Skechers so I don't have to spend time lacing my shoes! It's so much faster that way! I really need those shoes, mom."
I think I might have scratched a little varnish off the dining table when I slammed my fork down and ran shrieking out of the room towards the TV. I grabbed the nearest DVD and put it in: "You guys can watch Super Friends until dad and I are ready to go in a few minutes!"
An hour later, in the car, the kids were throwing a toy back and forth and I confiscated it. From the back seat, Bryce said, "I'll just get it with my lasso, I'm Wonder Woman! A HA HA HA HA!!" CRAP. So much for thwarting unwanted behaviors and mentalities by "controlling" what they watch.
When we got to the museum, we bought our omnidome theater tickets; we had a choice between a movie about ancient Greece or a movie about a fighter pilot training mission. Stupidly, I asked the museum employee which one would be more enjoyable for younger kids. "The fighter pilot one is more exciting," she said. Oh, okay. I am a thoughtless drone and so I will do whatever the museum employee says without putting any thought into the ramifications. Fighter pilot it is! In our defense, since it was an omnidome movie, we assumed most of it would be stomach-churning sequences of jets zooming through the sky. Within two minutes of sitting in the theater, though, I was kicking myself. The one message I consistently tell the kids is that we don't FIGHT, it's not okay to FIGHT, we don't want to be aggressors, there is always a thoughtful solution, it is NEVER OKAY TO FIGHT OR HURT. NEVER, even if those around you are doing it. The message of the fighter pilot movie revolved around "the mission," we need to complete our mission, it's great to shoot the enemy, but if the bomb doesn't hit the target, none of us have completed our mission or destroyed the "bad guys." OH MY GOD, NNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Luckily, it was a poorly written, produced, and edited film, and the kids were pretty bored. Quinn spent most of his time saying, in the very quiet, still theater full of irritated older kids and adults who just wanted to see fighter pilots bomb the bad guys can't you shut your kid up? (Waaah. Turn on the news, we're bombing "bad guys" all over the place.), "I WANT POPCORN. I can have popcorn? Are we getting popcorn? I WANT POPCORN!"
We left early (about 15 minutes into the military recruiting -- uh, I mean, omnidome -- film), but I brought it up later to Bryce: "What did you think of that plane movie?"
"It was good."
"Hmm. Well, I didn't really like how much shooting and fighting they wanted to do."
"Well, mom! They were just having battles, so that means it only lasts a day. And then they wait, like, a week before they have another one."
Good lord. I think I preferred the demands for Skechers and the lasso-wielding Wonder Woman impersonations.
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