My son discovered with an outburst that the child has never seen Jaws.
How does this happen? I’ve insisted George bring the boy to me Wednesday so I can fix him.
To my mind, 4 is the right age for Jaws watchin’.
This decision came by happenstance. Uncle Jer and I were upstairs in the Boulder house, flipping through the channels on a Saturday afternoon, when we saw that the movie was about to start.
We looked at each other with excitement. “Pop some corn!”
Then my son wandered in.
Badda bing badda boom. Four was the right age.
We initiated him carefully. We told him what to expect. “Hear the music? That means you’ll see some red spots in the water. Here’s a scary part.”
Then I couldn’t wait for The Baby to turn 4. I stood by the set with the unpopped corn counting down the days from her third birthday.
We had left Uncle Jer behind in Colorado, but acquired the flick on VHS. My son and I popped corn and brought her into the club.
Now it’s Bennett’s turn.
My kids know the routine by now. We’ll pop the corn, give the warnings, and as one, we’ll shout, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat!”
I’m thinkin’ since the kid’s 8, we’ll have to watch it twice.