Daddy: . . . and a small popcorn, please.
Clerk: Butter?
Daddy: No thanks.
Clerk (looking at me): Did you bring cotton balls?
Sleep-deprived me, staring blankly, gears turning at warp speed: No. (To absorb the extra butter? But he said no butter. Is there a joke I'm not getting here? What do cotton balls have to do with popcorn?)
Clerk: Then put your fingers in the baby's ears. Movie theaters are much too loud for children under two.
I'm about to shrug it off as some bizarre personal opinion, when she explains that pediatricians advise against bringing babies to the movies, that her son just turned three and his pediatrician still doesn't want him to attend. And, I might add, she was very nice about it.
So Ghoulie spent X-Men III sleeping on a parent's chest, ears firmly covered, especially for scenes in which the mutants demonstrate just how powerful they really are. She didn't seem to be bothered (neither by the loud noises, nor by the hand cupped over half her head). And since she slept through the whole thing, I really didn't need that quatriillion-gallon lemonade, either.
* * *
On a final note, should you decide to see X-Men III in the theater (after finding a babysitter or stocking up on cotton), make sure you stay until the credits are over. It's important. Even if you are the only people left in the theater, patiently staring at the screen in anticipation (and responsibly covering your child's head), while the theater manager and the custodian text their friends from their cell phones and politely wait . . . and wait . . . and wait for you to leave.
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