We celebrated Son's 12th birthday this past weekend. In a lot of ways, he's still a kid, and he wanted a birthday party. He wanted his friends around, and ice cream cake (and presents), but didn't want it to feel like a kids' party. Activities for middle-schoolers around here are limited, and even the ice rink and the bowling alley get booked up with holiday parties this time of year. So after much discussion, we opted to invite a group of his friends to see The Golden Compass when it opened on Friday, and then have pizza and cake back at our house.
I read the book shortly after it first came out, and the remaining two in the trilogy as they were released. [Son hasn't read them yet; as much as I might wish for it, he does not share my passion for obsession with reading.] I was aware that the movie was the subject of attacks by those of the fundamentalist, intolerant persuasion, and that rumors were floating around online that it was "toned down" as part of an underhanded plan to lull unsuspecting children into the storyline and then clobber them after they were hooked with atheist/anti-God/anti-Christian propaganda. But I didn't really think much of it; the usual suspects were in front of this effort in the media, so I didn't give it much credence. Plus all of the kids in question had seen the Harry Potter movies, and the LOTR trilogy, and Monty Python and the Holy Grail and the like; there had been previous exposure to violence, irreverence, and PG-13 ratings.
We made phone calls instead of sending out invitations; the people who own the local movie theaters don't advertise in the paper (long story) and don't post the show times until after they decide on Thursday night which screen the new film will be on, so I wanted to be able to explain that we wouldn't know exact times until that day. We talked to some families, and left voice messages for others, and I figured the logistics were taken care of. The next day, Son called me at work as soon as he arrived home after school. He wanted to know why M and W thought the move was "against God" and said they had told him that their parents would not allow them to go. He didn't want to have the party without them, so could we please go bowling instead?
This got my blood boiling for several reasons. Intolerance in general just gets to me, and I've seen more in this town than I can stand, and this time it was impacting my own kid, so that got my hackles up. What really bothered me was that none of the adults in question had the consideration to share their concerns with another adult; instead, they let the kids deal with it. And when 11 and 12 year olds are dealing with complex issues of religion, belief, and tolerance... well, they're just not equipped. They don't have the context, or the experience, and I know in Son's case he is just starting to understand how and why adults believe different things.
I was not under the impression I could - or should - talk another adult out of a parenting choice they made for their child; that's certainly their right, as it is mine. But don't have your kid carry the message for you, because the kid isn't prepared to deliver it, and my kid isn't prepared to receive it. What wasn't clear at this point was whether the parents expected us to change our plans based on their views, or if it was solely peer pressure that Son was getting, mixed with his own reluctance to give up any time with his friends.
So after Son's school orchestra concert that night, even though it was already past time for him to be asleep, we did a crash course on the content of His Dark Materials; how churches can differ on the spectrum of absolute obedience vs. free will; and symbolism, allegory, and how a fantasy story can have multiple interpretations. I didn't give these topics what they deserved, but he grasped enough that he understood better how people could disagree but that it was also possible - and important - to be respectful of one another's opinions. We also talked about the fact that he had three friends who were excited about going to the movie with him, and under what circumstances he would feel comfortable about rescinding that invitation. There was one attempt at finding a loophole: "Can't we just say the tickets are sold out and do something else?", but in general, he got it.
Fast forward to Friday, when I finally have the show times. I call the two families in question again to let them know what time we'll be back from the movie so the boys can come join us for dinner & video games, etc. This time I actually get to speak with adults, and it turns out that while W's father says (rather adamantly) that W will not be going to the movie, M's father says it's fine. M's father also recognizes that things got garbled somehow between the kids, and apologizes for not communicating directly. That helps. So I take 5 kids to the theater, and the 6th will meet us at the house afterward.
The boys love the movie; the action scenes were great, it was suspenseful, the special effects were very cool - particularly the daemons and the armored bears; there were big loud (but not gory) battle scenes. By the time we get home, W (who lives around the block) had just arrived, and the food is almost ready. As kids do, they move on quickly to what's immediately at hand, and any tension is forgotten. Over dinner, they are immersed in recounting highlights from previous video gaming sessions. W is in the midst of dramatizing some exploits playing Halo; this is a game that is not permitted in our household, but W has two older brothers (17 and 21) and plays it often. Suddenly from across the table, another one of the guests says "Wait a minute. You weren't allowed to see the movie, but you can play Halo at home? That doesn't make any sense!"
Welcome to adulthood. And parenting - even more so. Choices. Lots of choices, some that are easy and "make sense," some very hard. Son is growing up, in more ways than one. Though I was very gratified at how he started his day on Sunday, his actual birthday: when he woke up, I was relaxing on the couch under a blanket with a cup of coffee. I said "good morning" to him, and more than half expected a surly grunt in reply, or a request to play GameCube before breakfast. Instead he dropped onto the couch next to me and said "The 12-year-old wants to snuggle for a while." Thanks, Son. Happy Birthday to you, with much love.
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