Really? Huh. Ok.
"Well, honey, let's think about your favourite part of the movie. What was your favourite part?"
"When Odette married the Prince."
"Oh yes. That was lovely. I loved her hair. So pretty!"
We chatted for a few minutes about the good parts of The Swan Princess (which, by the way, there weren't very many-- it's crap-tacular AND old, so the production values aren't great on top of the pooh-dialogue and really, really awful songs.) But, even as I was watching it, I thought there were at least a few parts of this movie that were so crappily animated that they were much scarier than they actually intended to be. And, that is just another reason we watch all movies together the first time. Santa Paws was a painful lesson learned, let me tell you.
So, we talked about the good parts of the movie and I kissed her goodnight. I turned off the light and heard a wee squeal from her pillow. "You ok?"
"Momma! That didn't work. I just shut my eyes and the pictures are there." Frick.
"Ok. Well, what do you think will work?" When we watched Night At The Museum the first time, she had nightmares about T-Rex coming to life. So we talked about how to keep T-Rex from chasing her-- to throw a big bone or ball in her dream so the dinosaur will chase that instead. We talk through how to solve nightmare problems before she goes back to sleep and we find she doesn't have problems with that nightmare again. It's kinda cool actually. Must be her logical father's influence.
"I don't know. Maybe if we read a nice book it will take the bad pictures out of my brain?" Ok. Fair enough.
She picked up three teeny tiny board books about love and butterflies and princesses and we read them twice. I gave her another kiss and told her I love her and went into my room to begin this little blog. I don't think I'd even opened the frickin' laptop and there she was in my doorway, grinning and trying to look forlorn at the same time. Say what?
Holy Schnikes! This kid is playing me!
I looked up from the computer screen and she ambled over like she hurt her knee or was possibly practicing her "Dougie" dance moves. Large sigh. Head down. Real, princessy boo-hoo sobs were muffled by her hair. I'm impressed.
"Momma. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. I fell asleep and had a terrible nightmare. Terrible. I think (sigh). I have (looks into the middle distance wistfully). To sleep in your bed (head drops down onto my bed). Tonight (face is buried in blankets now). Boooo hooo hoooo oooo hoo."
If my eyebrows get any higher on my forehead, I will have to have them surgically lowered. And then I actually can't help myself. I laugh. Credibility gone again. But, she, giggling, knows she's not really gonna win this one either. But, it was a valiant effort rewarded with my laughter.
So, we got her back to bed and she slept through the night with no actual nightmares. We had a success in the parenting department, but with it came dialogue wondering whether we had exposed her to something she isn't ready for. I mean, part of me says that there are scary things in the world but she shouldn't grow up thinking that life is all sugar plums and glittery butterflies. BUT, on the other hand, I feel like there's enough life that isn't great, so why make her have to process it and deal with it before she's ready? Before I am?
I don't know what the right answer is, but for now, OUR right answer is to be there and watch everything she watches, at least the first time she sees it. That way, if there is questionable material on the screen, we can make the call to turn it off and cut our losses (which is what I initially did with Santa Paws, and then I started it up again after we'd talked about some of the content. And it got worse and worse and worse).
We'll also will pause a video so that we can discuss an issue or just take a break from something that might be fine, but a little much for her depending on the day. And we don't do anything crazy, we just say stuff like, "Wow! That was quite a scene. What did you think of it?" and "Do you think s/he is a good person or a bad person? Why?" But it gives her a chance to process what's going on, not just emotionally react to it.
But this all leads to one of the greatest things in my Mommy Toolbox: the little sign hanging in the lid that says, Let It Go. I need to remember what scares a little kid tonight will be forgotten in the morning, UNLESS I keep bringing it up and renewing the scare. So, I took a deep breath and let it go. And right on schedule, so has she.
(Uh, for the record, I invite you to test out either Santa Paws or Swan Princess-- both are at the local library which is where we 'rent' our films, but do the former without children and the latter with a glass of something relaxing. I think could be so-crappy-it's-funny if you're a little off kilter.)
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