Lauren Denton
“Jaws” is a big topic at our house these days. Kate likes to play that tension-filled ba-dum, ba-dum on her clarinet, they both want to know if the book is like the movie, and every few months or so, one of them asks when in the world I’m going to let them watch the movie. And every time, my answer is the same: I’ll let you watch the movie when you’re ready to stop feeling comfortable swimming in the Gulf or the river when we go to the beach.
I saw “Jaws” as a fairly young kid, and to this day, I still half expect something to clamp down on my leg anytime I’m more than ankle deep in the gulf. When Kate and Sela are happily floating on rafts a few dozen feet off shore, I’m scanning the surface of the water for fins. And every time we pull them in the tube behind the boat, I have to keep myself from thinking of the scene in the movie where the shark bites the inflatable yellow raft being pulled behind the boat, dumping all the kids into the water…with the shark.
“Jaws” isn’t the only thing I’m keeping them away from for now. I know my kids pretty well, and I know the specific types of things that rattle them and get stuck in their heads. When I’ve gone ahead and let them watch something that was too much for them, we’ve paid the price: having to doublecheck that bedroom closet doors are closed at night after seeing something scary pop out of a closet in a movie, one of them sleeping with a lamp on for about six months after seeing a really scary image online, the other one refusing to let anyone in the house even say the name of a particular creepy movie.
As a parent, of course I want to stand between my kids and anything that could possibly hurt them or cause them discomfort, but there’s a line between keeping them from being hurt and letting them learn lessons on their own, and it’s a hard line to find. Sure, I can make my kids hold off on seeing “Jaws” while they’re young to keep them from losing their enjoyment of the water (again, I know what types of things get stuck in my girls’ minds, and Bruce the shark biting Quint in half would do it). I can encourage them to read widely but postpone books that aren’t appropriate for their age and/or maturity. I can check reviews on Common Sense Media before they turn on a new TV show I’m not familiar with. But I don’t have my head in the sand.
I know my careful review-reading and media-monitoring won’t keep out all the hurt, whether it comes in the form of a movie, TV show, book, internet meme or unkind word. And sometimes I have to let them see or hear the “bad” thing in order to let them make their own way in the world and learn to make good choices. Mom making all the choices for them is the epitome of preparing the road for the child, and all that will do is turn out a kid who doesn’t know right from wrong, because she’s never had to choose.
Every generation probably thinks their own is the hardest in which to raise kids. My parents probably thought it, as did their parents before them. And here I am thinking the world we’re raising our kids in is by far the hardest, scariest, most dangerous time yet. And I don’t think I’m wrong. But we’re learning as we go, aren’t we? I’m combatting the dangers of this world and its culture by fighting back to the extent that I can, and one of the ways I do that is by not being afraid to have uncomfortable conversations with my girls. Whether it’s something they’ve read about in the news, an adult situation that pops up on the TV screen before my finger has a chance to hit the fast forward button, or a text for my daughter that comes through my phone and has a word or insinuation I’m not super comfortable with, we discuss it. Sometimes I’m embarrassed, often they’re embarrassed, but the point is, we talk about it. I make sure they know they can talk to me about anything, ask me anything, and they won’t get in trouble for asking. That’s how they learn to make choices, after all.
And our hope is that later, once they’ve moved on and are no longer living in our house, the ways we both protected them and let them go will enable them to make good choices for their lives and the people they love. And hopefully they’ll still be able to swim in the gulf without scanning the water for shark fins.
When I’m not writing about my family and our various shenanigans, I write novels and go to the grocery store. My newest novel, “A Place To Land,” was released Oct. 4. You can reach me by email at Lauren@LaurenKDenton.com, visit my website LaurenKDenton.com, or find me on Instagram @LaurenKDentonBooks or Facebook ~LaurenKDentonAuthor.
