Last year I decided it was time for my eight-year-old to accompany me on some grown-up outings. Previously I'd scheduled my appointments and activities for while she was at school, or with her father, or a babysitter, and so she hadn't experienced having to sit around killing time while I was otherwise occupied. In the interests of delivering a well-rounded childhood I decided she needed to occasionally tag along with me.
A couple of visits to the hairdressers went so well I figured next we'd see a movie together - not the latest children's release for once but something I wanted to see. "If you don't like it just do what I do when I take you to one of your movies and have a wee snooze," I said as we settled in to watch The Iron Lady in the school holidays. (The fact that Meryl Streep had played Donna in Mamma Mia made it an easy sell.)
As it turned out my daughter loved the movie and laughed like a drain at the antics of the eccentric Denis Thatcher. It was a successful outing; we both enjoyed it, and she'd learnt some history and politics along the way.
Of course, our second movie was a bit of a disaster. During the long weekend we went to see The Descendants. "It starts out a bit gloomy but it gets happier as it goes along," I said as the lights dimmed. I'd formed this opinion from reading a couple of reviews but unfortunately it was a false assumption. The grim backdrop of the wife's boating accident dominated, and there were some scenes and themes that were probably inappropriate for a child, not to mention lashings of bad language.
As we left the theatre I braced myself for a fellow movie-goer to berate me for subjecting an innocent child to such swearing. What would I say? "Don't worry, she hears worse at home," wasn't really going to help my case. Thankfully we escaped untroubled by the values and judgements of others that day.