Took Fish to see Madagascar 3 a few years back and made it through about half of the movie before we elected to partake in lame arcade-ish games. You know, those eternal punishers, aka claw machines. My version of this story has us "electing" to exit the theatre, but I am positive the kindly young usher had a different story to tell, which may have involved ring pops and volume control. But really, after exhausting all of my disposable income for the month on suckers (oral motor comfort), concessions, and tickets- I was really pumped about shelling out further [extremely] disposable income on rotating motorcycles, violent touch screens, and claw-all-my-money machines.
Fischer is 4 now, rapidly approaching 5, and has seen all the damn desolate advertisements for the new Disney movie Planes. Repeating commercials consistently during the already annoying plethora of tot programming is good, pure marketing. The DVD won't be out for months, so parents have to frequent the godforsaken theatre and drop loads of cash because their offspring cannot possibly hold out until DVD release. (Hang on a sec, I need to refill my coffee for the 3rd time this a.m. because anxiety is creeping up on me just reliving the flick experience). I have ADD and it is extremely difficult for me to sit still during a film that I have no interest in whatsoever. The spouse can watch cartoons and kids movies for hours. I don't get it, but I digress. The only thing that curbed my overwhelming desire to bolt was holding out for Goose and Viper to appear and discuss the need-for-speed. Tragically, we vacated before Anthony Edwards and Val Kilmer made their appearance (I think).
We prepared with the calming oral motor necessities and his key key (blankey). We chose a time when no one else should have been in the theatre. Should being the operative word. Who sees kids movies at 4:20 on a Wednesday anyway? Middle aged people with no offspring see kids movies in the middle of a workday. I smiled at the overly non-friendly concessions gal as I handed over 30 bucks. Seriously, 30 bucks? Whatever.
As soon as the lights dimmed, he panicked. Then came the sound and the first thing out of his mouth was "that's too loud." Vaulted ceilings, echoes, surround sound = uneasy Fischer. He asked to leave immediately. I wanted him to be able to see the movie, plus I had just shelled out a ridiculous amount of cash and Kevin wanted to watch the movie. He went through 3 suckers in the first half-hour and patrolled the aisle like it was his job. I took him out 3 times to wash the sticky off his hands. I let him chew gum and gum is a total no-no in our house. Finally, Fish and I kindly removed ourselves after 40 minutes of the flick. And I am positive that the whispers, "it's about goddamned time", were for the usher with repulsive BO and not for us. We went next door to Family Dollar and waited for Kevin to emerge and end the nightmare.
As we walked out of the building, Fischer said, "that's just not for me." I wanted to cry tears of happiness and regret. My little toddler never ceases to amaze me with how in-tune he is with his own body. I should have known he wouldn't be comfortable. It was in that moment that I realized that he isn't missing out on anything. I'm not depriving him of a fun experience. It's a matter of preference. It's no different than forcing a kid to play soccer when he has no desire simply because you want to afford him the experience. He has a sensory disorder. Why would he want to be in a dark place where lights flicker constantly and his eyes remain in constant overdrive? Why would he want to be in a loud environment with sound coming from every direction? Fischer has made so much progress over the past 2 years; I sometimes forget that he has a sensory disorder. He has grown out of a lot of his sensory obstacles, but the underlying uncomfortableness lies dormant and does resurface. I couldn't have summed our experience up any better than he did; "it's just not for me." To each his own.
Fischer is 4 now, rapidly approaching 5, and has seen all the damn desolate advertisements for the new Disney movie Planes. Repeating commercials consistently during the already annoying plethora of tot programming is good, pure marketing. The DVD won't be out for months, so parents have to frequent the godforsaken theatre and drop loads of cash because their offspring cannot possibly hold out until DVD release. (Hang on a sec, I need to refill my coffee for the 3rd time this a.m. because anxiety is creeping up on me just reliving the flick experience). I have ADD and it is extremely difficult for me to sit still during a film that I have no interest in whatsoever. The spouse can watch cartoons and kids movies for hours. I don't get it, but I digress. The only thing that curbed my overwhelming desire to bolt was holding out for Goose and Viper to appear and discuss the need-for-speed. Tragically, we vacated before Anthony Edwards and Val Kilmer made their appearance (I think).
We prepared with the calming oral motor necessities and his key key (blankey). We chose a time when no one else should have been in the theatre. Should being the operative word. Who sees kids movies at 4:20 on a Wednesday anyway? Middle aged people with no offspring see kids movies in the middle of a workday. I smiled at the overly non-friendly concessions gal as I handed over 30 bucks. Seriously, 30 bucks? Whatever.
As soon as the lights dimmed, he panicked. Then came the sound and the first thing out of his mouth was "that's too loud." Vaulted ceilings, echoes, surround sound = uneasy Fischer. He asked to leave immediately. I wanted him to be able to see the movie, plus I had just shelled out a ridiculous amount of cash and Kevin wanted to watch the movie. He went through 3 suckers in the first half-hour and patrolled the aisle like it was his job. I took him out 3 times to wash the sticky off his hands. I let him chew gum and gum is a total no-no in our house. Finally, Fish and I kindly removed ourselves after 40 minutes of the flick. And I am positive that the whispers, "it's about goddamned time", were for the usher with repulsive BO and not for us. We went next door to Family Dollar and waited for Kevin to emerge and end the nightmare.
As we walked out of the building, Fischer said, "that's just not for me." I wanted to cry tears of happiness and regret. My little toddler never ceases to amaze me with how in-tune he is with his own body. I should have known he wouldn't be comfortable. It was in that moment that I realized that he isn't missing out on anything. I'm not depriving him of a fun experience. It's a matter of preference. It's no different than forcing a kid to play soccer when he has no desire simply because you want to afford him the experience. He has a sensory disorder. Why would he want to be in a dark place where lights flicker constantly and his eyes remain in constant overdrive? Why would he want to be in a loud environment with sound coming from every direction? Fischer has made so much progress over the past 2 years; I sometimes forget that he has a sensory disorder. He has grown out of a lot of his sensory obstacles, but the underlying uncomfortableness lies dormant and does resurface. I couldn't have summed our experience up any better than he did; "it's just not for me." To each his own.
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