The first friends we made when we moved to our new hometown have two daughters of similar age to our two oldest. Their oldest is one year older than ours and their youngest is 2 years older than our second. It’s been neat watching them grow up together even if we don’t get to see them nearly enough as we’d like. Especially now that they are well into the “boy” years.
Our friends have a pretty good system worked out with which movies they allow their daughters to see. If they are concerned of any inappropriate content, they will screen the movie themselves and can have their daughters avert their eyes with the simple code word, “eyes,” shortly before said scene unfolds. I was talking with their mother months ago when she relayed a story about one such movie.
Now, I don’t remember the movie in question, but Benedict Cumberbatch was in it. When the questionable moment was coming up, mom whispered to her 13-year-old, “eyes.” She dutifully bowed her head and raised her hand to keep from seeing whatever the scene was. On the other side of the couch, dad told the 16-year-old, “eyes.”
“Yeah.”
“Eyes!”
“Yeah, he has pretty eyes.”
“COVER YOUR EYES!”
“Oh, right.”
I got a kick out of that story. And, with a 16-year-old of my own, I have moments akin to theirs. Just the other day we were talking about movies and celebrities when I mentioned her first celebrity crush, Zac Efron. To which she responded she really wants to see Dirty Grandpa.
“No way,” I said. “It’s rated R.”
“But I’ve seen the trailer and it looks funny.”
“You just want to see Zac Efron in his bathing suit flexing his muscles at the beach party.”
Jaw drops. “I didn’t see that, but now I want to.”
Okay, where did I put the phone number to the convent…
thejasonsmind 