The final frontier: space movies and kids

We were the type of parents-to-be who insisted Miss Adventure would fit into our life, not the other way around. How wrong we were. Having a child changes everything. If only other parents could learn that.

What was he doing there in the first place?

He must’ve been five. Or a stumpy six. And he was ruining our night.

Our night. That unfamiliar beast. Rarer than a pink diamond. And more valuable.

A night without Miss Adventure.

She’s almost five. I’d reckon only a few months behind him.

And she was home. Asleep. Safe with Grandma.

So what was he doing here in a dark cinema? Yelling questions to his parents during the previews.

He actually resembled the previews. Roughly the size of a Hobbit, perhaps just a little smaller. But with the voice of Thor. A booming, interrupting influence.

Then, our movie started. Gravity. An epic battle for survival in the silence of space. He was doing a good job of filling the void.

Thankfully, not too far in, his parents, overwhelmed by guilt, embarrassment and, no doubt, frustration, prised their son out of his seat. Thankfully, they ignored the tantrum, because he wanted to stay. Thankfully, space fell silent once more.

I still couldn’t help but wonder, why was he here in the first place?

Did the babysitter cancel at the last minute? Or just not show up? Was it a special night? Perhaps an anniversary and the parents thought they’d roll the dice.

Or perhaps, like so many parents before them, they declared before he arrived:

“We won’t change. He can fit into our life. Not the other way around.”

I know those words well. I used them. My famous last words of freedom.

They say ignorance is bliss. Well, my wife and I blissfully assumed we’d be able to take Miss Adventure out to restaurants when she was a baby. She’d sleep. We’d eat.

After all, we’d seen other couples do it.

Except, Miss Adventure has always been fascinated by what’s going on around her.

Her first breath in the delivery room, was followed by her head slowly lifting up and looking around. Eyes absorbing everything. Pretty impressive, considering newborns aren’t supposed to have any neck control.

She was never going to just lazily nod off and let us enjoy our meal.

We soon learned outings with Miss Adventure were an adventure. The kind of adventure you have when you’re lost in a hostile country, without speaking the language and your passport’s been stolen.

The helplessness and confusion were overwhelming.

Often, no sooner had we arrived, than we packed up and fled for the relative safety of home.

Miss Adventure had no intention of fitting in with our lifestyle. It was far easier for us to fit in with her life.

We discovered routine worked for Miss Adventure. She knew what to expect and when to expect it. She was happy. That worked for us.

Now, of course, we can go out to dinner. Miss Adventure loves going to restaurants. She knows to sit in her chair. She knows that if she doesn’t behave, we go home.

She’s never a disturbance. For us. Or for others.

But I still wouldn’t take her to an evening movie session. And I certainly wouldn’t take her to see a movie like Gravity. There are some questions I’m not ready to answer. Particularly in a crowded cinema.

But those parents took him. It ruined their evening.

I wonder if it was their last attempt to hold onto a former existence?

I wonder if they were trying to hold onto the belief that he would fit into their lives?

I wonder if they now realise it’s up to them to fit in with his life?

Because the moment you become a parent, your life has changed forever.

Sure, it’s an adjustment. But for everything you’ve lost, everything you may mourn, there are a dozen more wonderful experiences to take their place.

Life with children is different to life before children. The sooner you embrace that, the easier it becomes.

I’d have told his parents, but I didn’t want to disrupt the movie.

Follow Michael on Twitter @MichaelCoombes