Saturday night I took the Bug to his first real movie. We were planning on waiting until he was 3 — or at least had sat through a feature length movie at home, but I was having a bad day. The Bug and I were butting heads all day.

I was a little angry in general. It could be a part of the grieving process. Or it could be that I've been sick for three days, the first 3 pairs of socks I put on today had holes in them, so I ended up wearing the wrong socks to go walking in and tearing up my heels. Or it could be that being sick for 3 days appears to have proved that I am the only person in the house who knows how to pick up a sponge wipe up a counter. But I digress. f

So I'm in said bad mood, and my friend invites me to go to the movies to see Charlottes Webb with her, her Mom and her nephews. I say "the Bug is too young" and she tells me that she took her nephews when they were the same age. As I want to do anything but spend the evening at home butting heads with my son, we go.

For the first hour he was completely memorized. Then he got bored. We managed to entertain him with snacks for a while, and then money (the kids got a real thing for money, something I refuse to discourage). But he was just too excited and too tired, so we went for a walk. The Bug and I pretended to play some video games, and then we *played* the change machine. He really liked that. Then we played toss with his stuffed dog. Then he decided that he wanted to go back to the movie.

He sat for a grand total of 30 seconds and took off. Luckily the theater was empty except for the two families seated behind us. The Bug ran down to the first row, and found himself a seat. Then a few minutes later he started to run back and forth through each of the rows heading back towards us. I was in the aisle at this point attempting to catch him, while my friends Mom roared with laughter at me. All the while you could just make out the top of his blond head as he traveled through the aisles.

Here's the problem. I was torn. On the one hand, he wasn't hurting anyone, he wasn't being loud and he was having a good time. On the other hand, my two year old was running around with total abandon in a place where you are not supposed to do such things, and I have become that mother that everyone complains about.

Tough call, but I did catch him and remove him from the theater until the end of the movie. Although there were a few tears and cries of “My Moooovie, My Mooovie”, I took him back in as the credits were rolling and the two of us hung out in the front of the theater and danced the crazy dance to the soundtrack.

All in all, not a bad night, but I think I will wait a few more months before we tackle that experience again.