The arts play a major role in our household. Whether it's reading stories, or creating art projects, or visiting art museums, or listening to music, or even watching movies, art is everywhere and we encourage our children to consume it; to embrace it; to create it. One of the benefits we have found is the nurturing of their unbridled imagination. Paintings and music inspire them, and books and movies captivate them as they become absorbed in the stories. We try to experience all of these as a family, often designating a movie night so we can all participate together.
Animated movies are often dismissed as fodder for children, but I would argue that a well-crafted animated film often exceeds the artistic value of their live-action counterparts. For example, "How to Train Your Dragon" is a remarkable film, containing many elements that are cleverly woven together, including friendship, family, coming of age, conviction, and redemption. What makes the film so remarkable is how it appeals to such a broad audience. I'm not sure who enjoys the film more: my wife and I, or our children. Apparently "thirty-something parents" were part of the target audience, so when a sequel was released, the entire family was looking forward to seeing it. Although we had read some doomsday Internet reports about the film containing subject matter some parents deemed inappropriate for children, we still went ahead and took our children to the drive-in to see it.
The nice thing about having a large SUV at the drive-in theater is being able to park with the rear facing the screen, providing a place where the whole family can gather, in comfort, and enjoy the movie together. We usually bring cushions, pillows, blankets and other niceties to further enhance the movie-going experience. Beyond all this, the drive-in affords us some privacy. Family time is confined to our vehicle, and does not have to be shared with the theater at large, as with a walk-in theater.
Our viewing of "How to Train Your Dragon 2" was going well enough until the fateful scene when Stoick The Vast makes the ultimate sacrifice for his son. As we built toward that moment, my wife and I exchanged meaningful looks indicating we both were aware of how invested in the moment our children had become. Our daughter was seven, and our son was five, and both of them were devastated. The instant Toothless delivered the final blow, our children burst into hysterical tears and required several minutes of comfort before they could resume watching the film. While both my wife and I took turns hugging them and soothing them, they seemed to need more from me, something my wife understood better than I did at the time. They were so invested in the story that they were able to feel Hiccup's pain. In their innocence, they clung to me, their father, if only to remind themselves that their father was still present, and to remind me how much they valued my presence.
I sometimes hesitate to expose my children to doses of reality that touch on subjects like our own mortality, mainly because I do not want it to negatively impact their innocence. They only have one chance to be a child, and I am in no hurry for them to grow up. Thankfully, shortly after our family outing at the drive-in, I came upon my daughter, playing with her toys in her room. She was making up stories and doing voices for each of the characters in the game she was playing.
"Whats going on in here?" I asked her playfully, causing her to giggle and blush.
"I make myself laugh," she said, as her giggle changed to laughter, before adding, "with my own silliness!"
Of course you do. You make me laugh with your silliness as well, because your innocence and joy are the rewards of fatherhood.
