Saturday night, commonly known as "Date Night," I spiffed up and went to meet my escort. I didn't have far to go since he was at the end of the hall in his room playing Lego. Mummy and son were going to paint the town Crayola red while hubby and daughter were having their own special time at home with pizza and a video (Did I say “video?” Time warp. I meant DVD...I mean, Blu Ray. Fine, we don't have Blue Ray. I hestitate to invest in new technology unless I'm sure it will stick. This, coming from a chick who played record albums until 1988 while deciding if CDs were going anywhere.)
My boy child and I headed out on our double date to meet a fellow mum/son duo at the movie theatre. Of course the boys wanted to sit right smack in the front row. Strangely, craning my elderly neck upwards for 90 minutes didn't appeal to me. The back row, their second choice, was also not an option, what with climbing all those stairs only to find the back row teaming with horny teens. We sat in sensible seats in the middle—the section littered with old folks and sticky drink cups that rolled down from the teens in Make-Out Row.
With drinks (brought from home concealed in my behemoth mom purse) and overpriced movie popcorn in hand, we donned our 3D specs, and settled in for the show. Most G-rated movies make my eyes glaze over within the first four minutes and I spend the remaining time imagining what I’m missing on the adjacent adult screens. However, I vowed to be present no matter what and FYI, I didn't look at my phone once. *takes a bow*
My husband has boycotted movie theatres ever since the "incident" during The Planet of the Apes. The people in the row in front of us talked through the entire movie until my husband finally snapped and actually went “ape sh*t!” My wee man doesn’t mind the incessant chatter and noisy candy wrappers. Nor the lip smacking, drink slurping, back of the seat kicking, shoes to the floor sticking....gahhhh! Maybe renting is the way to go?
I can handle the little annoyances, but not the seat kicking. I detest seat kicking. I always politely ask the offender to knock it off and it usually works out just fine. Unless of course you turn to ask them to stop making so much noise and to please refrain from kicking your seat and while you’re using your most restrained voice you inhale and choke on a piece of popcorn resulting in a coughing fit so violent you have to exit the theatre until you can dislodge the kernel from your trachea. Did I mention the smart assess had the nerve to shush me while I was choking?!
On the way home I asked my son what his favourite part of our date was.
His answer: "Looking around in the 3D glasses. And being in charge of the popcorn bag."
Wow. Holding back tears over here from the heavy emotional sentiment.
If he had asked me the same question?
“When we pulled into the parking lot and sat for a minute, just listening to the rain fall on the roof of the car. You broke the silence by saying, “Don't you just love this mummy? I'm so excited. Are you excited too?" We ran through the rain.You took my hand and literally skipped into the theatre.Then you looked up at me with those giant brown eyes and squeezing my hand so tight said, “I love you mum.”
So ya. I can handle an occasional chair kick to the kidney. It's worth it if it means I get to spend a special Date Night with my guy.
What is your favourite mother/child "date night" memory? {Share in the comments below or leave a link to a blog post you may have written about it.}
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