Functional Illiterate

So, A and I went to the movie theater to check out a new flick awhile back. A loooooves to go to the movies--she loves the popcorn, the darkness, the foldy seats, the soda, everything. Even if the movie sucks, A will proclaim that she had a fabulous time. I also love to go to the movies and dh doesn't. So, whenever there's an appropriate offering at the theater, I take this kid to "the show" (as we used to call it back in my day). It makes a good mother-daughter outing. The one downfall A has, however, is the "staying-shut-up-while-the-fucking-movie-is-on" part of this date. Sure, I give her pep talks before hand and I reward good behavior and I try to emphasize that she gets to go to the movies & N doesn't (usually) because she is so mature and can behave, etc. But still, she talks at least some.

So, we're sitting quietly in our chairs, waiting for our feature presentation to begin. The previews come on, and A is quietly munching away on popcorn. One preview is for the upcoming Polar Express. This movie looks beautiful and I can see (yes, even in the dark) that A is intrigued by it. I mentally put this on our list of movies to catch later this fall. Anyway, the pictures flash on the screen, interspersed with phrases such as "a movie by blah" or "starring blah blah blah". As each phrase appears, A whispers "what's that say", "what's that say?". I try to shush the kid as best I can, dismayed that the talking has started before the movie has. More phrases flash, more questions from A, more shushing from me. At last, A can take it no more and she's feeling fairly frustrated and I'm getting a little peeved because the brat won't stay quiet and the goddamned movie hasn't even started yet.

A brief moment of silence and then . . . all hell breaks loose.

"What's that SAY?!", she wails loudly. "You know I can't read! We haven't learned those big words yet!" This all said in a loud, disgruntled voice, all pretense at piping down is long gone.

Oh poor thing! Now, I'm feeling a twinge of bad-mother guilt. Uh-oh.

You know, I'm not one to condone bratty pain in the ass behavior, but too often I forget how it is to be a little person in a big person's world. I really need to make more of an effort at this.