Why I Can't Sleep

Tonight we watched A Little Princess. It’s one of our (Adam’s and my) favorite movies. We snuggled down and let the kids stay up late (we are after all, on vacation). I tucked Mark into the recliner with me and we shared the soft red blanket, which is our favorite. We leave the scratchy gray one for the others.

I love watching a movie with my arms entwined with Mark. Sometimes he gets wiggly and I boot him out of the chair but tonight he had rapt attention. I thought he was going to hyperventilate from laughing too hard when the nice Miss Minchin (Amelia) ran off with “the dashing young milkman”, Frances and later I thought his heart (and therefore mine) were going to break. He had his first brush with empathy.

First I have to explain that Mark has spent a good part of his days firmly believing he is a Jedi. He is a warrior and our broken and dented furniture bear the evidence of his warring ways. He also likes to fashion guns out of whatever toy he can and he skips the Star Wars DVD to the fight scenes. That’s why I was completely floored by his reaction tonight.

In the movie, there’s a scene where Sara’s father, Captain Crewe, is in the trenches during World War I. He is struggling to save a comrade through the trenches filled with dead soldiers. It affected Mark. A lot. Enough that I thought to pause the movie and explain to him that THIS is why I don’t like the fighting movies and won’t let him play computer games when the whole point is shooting. THIS is what guns do.

Mark wouldn’t and couldn’t forget it. For the rest of the movie he kept saying, “I feel so sorry for the soldiers.” I agreed with him and confirmed that yes war is a terrible thing. Then, I think Mark had to soften it for himself. He said, “None of the soldiers died. Their arms just got shot but none of them died. They all went to the hospital. None of them died.” I again agreed with my sweet boy. I’m sure that’s what happened I told him.

In the dramatic climax of the movie, when Sara is ripped, sobbing, from her father’s arms, her father that doesn’t remember her, Mark looked up at me and had tears in his eyes. Seconds later, her father remembered and Mark sighed in relief but then considered the soldiers in the trenches again and continued talking about them.

I think maybe we shouldn’t have let Mark see the movie. Who knew it would affect him like that? Certainly not us. Maybe it was a good thing though. Maybe it’s part of growing up, being gently introduced, while snuggling with your mom under your favorite blanket, to the horrors that happen in this world. Maybe.

For now I want to build a ten-foot wall around the tender place in his heart that cried for Sara Crewe. I want to shield him from every meanness and cruelty in the world but since I can’t, I want to somehow, in some way, give him what he needs to cope. To be OK. To be at peace.