The Trials of Being a Media Snob
A few Saturdays ago the local movie theater near me had a special viewing of the newest straight-to-DVD Disney flick, Cinderella III: A Twist in Time.
That's right, number three. What, you missed the second one?
The show was free, was rated G, and I needed something to do on a Saturday morning while my husband, a medical student, was busy at the hospital. So I packed up the troops (21-month-old girl, 4-year-old boy) and headed down to Lowes'.
What to think? The whole shebang was sponsored by Radio Disney, kids were wearing costumes, everyone got free balloons at the end. Pretty wholesome, tame stuff. And yet I felt the Heavy Hand of Guilt hovering over my head the entire time.
1. I felt guilt because I was taking my kids to what amounted to a giant advertisement for a DVD, Mr. Walter Disney's Version of the World, and cheesy radio DJs. Shudder.
2. I felt guilt because I was exposing my daugther to Prissy Princesses. And my inner feminist said that this was a Very Bad Thing.
3. I felt guilt because I was the only one who noticed that the animated Prince had been given very big eyelashes in the close-up shots, giving him an eerie resemblance to Speed Racer. You know, this guy:
Look at those lashes! They're the size of meadowlarks!
I was a bad, bad mom who couldn't stop snickering the whole while.
Should I have felt this way? Or should I just sit back and relax? As my advisor told me back in library school, anybody who wants to work with kids and does nothing but listen to NPR and watch PBS is going to have a hard time of it.
Someday I'll be able to teach my kids all about Irony and Pop Culture Omnipresence, they'll be snickering in the back row with me. Until then, I suppose . . .