We’re doing a study on My Father’s World Creation to the Greeks. This study includes the inevitable inclusion of dinosaurs to our timeline. Because I’m a mother who is all about fun (a point which could be argued by a certain 12 and 10 year old who are certain I was put on the planet to do nothing but torture them), I thought I would be remiss not to treat my children to a viewing of Jurassic Park.
Jurassic Park was released in 1993, when Fiddledaddy and I were in just friends mode. We decided to see the midnight showing on the first day of its release at Universal City Walk in Los Angeles. Since everyone else in the city of angels had the same idea, we were relegated to the 1:30 am showing.
It scared the gizzards out of me.
Why I thought it would be a good idea to show it to my 12, 10, and 7 year old, I cannot say. Except that I will use my old standby that breast feeding 3 children and the subsequent sleep deprivation robbed me of valuable brain cells.
And besides, they are a hearty bunch with a thirst for violence anyway.
Sadly, we had to resort to watching Jurassic Park 3 first and then followed by Jurassic Park 2 because of a library snafu. In retrospect, #3 was somewhat tame and I had forgotten how scary #2 really was. But when they finally were able to see the first movie, the entire house had an appreciation for special affects, frightening scenarios, and how truly delicious billy goats must be. Oh. And never ever will they ever want to use an outhouse again.
I knew there would be some language issues and had a discussion with the children prior to the movie. We don’t let curse words fly in our house (oh, they fly around plenty IN MY HEAD). But because we live, well, in the world, they have been exposed to only a few $1.00 curse words.
The only child who I’ve had an issue with is of course young Jensen, who lives to push a) my buttons, and b) all the boundaries. So far, I’m staying on top of it. With help from the resident narc, sister Cailey, who is all too happy to alert us if her brother even thinks of a bad word.
I’m certain this will all be sorted out in therapy years from now, when my children realize that their childhood was scarred from having parents who allowed them to view Jurassic Park, all 3 installments. Not unlike my own parents who let me watch the likes of The Exorcist, Carrie, Ben, and Jaws in 1976. (I still have not gone back into the water.)
I recently overheard a young cousin describing to his mother how Jensen’s most favorite part of the movie was when the dinosaur BIT SOMEONE IN HALF.
It’s all in the name of education. That’s my story. And I’m sticking to it.