So the wife took the girl to a birthday party on Saturday, and suggested I take the boy to get his back-to-school supplies because it was the “no tax” weekend. Not seeing the display at Target I figure we’d just get him a lunch-box or something. As we came closer to the “supplies” area I could feel the air become tighter. The smell in the air was that of chaos with hints of scented hand lotion. I could also feel the floor tremble with that of designer BOGO shoes… I had inadvertently stumbled into the center mix of the Back To School Mom-O-Roma. The boy and I were lucky enough to get out alive; camouflage lunch-box in hand. I text’ed the wife:
“…the moms scare me… I’m pulling out… I’ll see if I can grab a couple polo’s along the way… if i don’t make it I’ve always really liked you…”
I felt it only appropriate we wash that experience down with some Wendy’s, which wasn’t as awe-inspiring as it usually is… so I figured I should attempt to salvage the day with something cool: The Simpson’s Movie.
In true dad form, we show up to see if we can fall in a range of times to catch the film – no knowledge of schedules. 50 minutes early. No worries, we’ll play some games. He’s made a b-line for the crap dispensers which I shut down “…dude, you have a room full of crap. Just play something, will you?” Being the good parent I am, I head to the pinball machine and leave him to find an alternative. So what does he end up playing? Some first person shooter with a kid who just got out of the earlier Simpsons show; I realize after all my tokens are gone. He really needs work on his aim (XMAS is right around the corner… hummmmmm).
So the movie was cool. We had to have a conversation on the ride home about language and what he’s not allowed to repeat, situations he’s not allowed to ask questions about, and why he’s not allowed to take any dare I may suggest to him that involves public nudity. Frankly, if I hadn’t already shown my questionable parenting judgment by letting him see The Monster Squad movie just a couple of weeks ago I might feel bad; but I don’t. Now, to make all of you happy if/when Futurama comes out with a film I won’t take him to see that until he’s actually 13; unless it’s R, then yes, I will take him to see that – Futurama rocks!