All right, I’ve long said my kids are going to have a lot of ammunition to pummel me on a Jerry Springer episode. I think if St. Peter is at the Pearly Gates when I get there, his first question would be about why I took a six year old to Iron Man. (I didn’t know, I honestly didn’t know!) There are many things that seem o-k on the first step down the path that later make me cringe with guilt.
Take last night for example. Blondeshell and I wanted to see the movie, Mamma Mia. After the Iron Man fiasco, I diligently went to Common Sense Media to check out the reviews. It was recommended for 13 plus, but there weren’t a lot of things that seemed overly concerning–other than the whole basic premise of Mamma Mia, which is not knowing which one of three guys is your father.
Afterall, these are the six year old sisters of almost 13 year old boys. Theses girls have seen a lot of things that these boys didn’t see until they were 13. After much discussion, my friend and I decided that we loved the music and figured that the story would go right over their heads, which it did. The girls enjoyed the music and the dancing–the film really is a feast for the ears and eyes with it’s island setting and big star sky.
The girls danced and sang all of the way out of the theater and in the car the whole way home. The moms were dancing and singing, too.
Check out Common Sense Media’s review and decide for yourself how far you’ve slid up or down the Worst Mom Ever scale. The more the merrier?