I had a tough choice to make and it was keeping me up at night. See, I was invited to a special screening for a new movie, Hotel Transylvania, and I could bring a guest.
My oldest child, Balthazar, who just turned eight, was the natural choice. He’s my movie guy who loves every movie and relishes in the joy of going. But my youngest child, Margaux, who’s four, never gets to go anywhere. She’s my schlep-along kid who spends half her life in the car going to her brother’s stuff.
I worry if she’s ever asked to draw a portrait of me, it will be a drawing of the back of my head and a steering wheel in my hand.
This would be the perfect opportunity for us to spend some alone time together, but I just wasn't sure whether she was old enough to appreciate the movie.
After much debate, I told Balt that I was taking him to the screening. He shouted, "Yes!" while Margaux started to cry. It took me the better part of half an hour to convince her that no, I didn't love her brother more than I love her. And yes, I would buy her a pony to make up for not choosing her. And, to soften the blow, I told her that the movie would only admit kids ages six and older (yes, a little white lie, but it seemed to help calm her down).