The Darkest Night

My 13-year-old son and I had been talking about the new Batman film for months.

So much so that we had big plans to see the midnight debut last Friday.

Thankfully we didn't.

We could've gone to the Century 16 Theater in Aurora, Colorado.

Thankfully we didn't.

Why we didn't?

That's easy.

The Aurora theater is not our local theater.

Even though it's just 20 minutes from where we live.

But instead of making that drive, it was a whole lot easier to pick one of the theaters closer to our home.

It wasn't until late Thursday afternoon that I decided to put a kibosh on our big plans.

I finally came to the realization that a 45-year-old man and 13-year-old boy wouldn't enjoy a movie that starts at midnight.

As much as we would enjoy the 10:30am show.

The one we ended up seeing.

Not to mention, I wasn't willing to spend $25 to watch him fall asleep ten minutes into a three-hour film.

Now there was a point on Thursday when I did plan on looking into other theaters with cheaper tickets.

Thankfully I got distracted.

And never did.

Because had I checked a little closer I would've seen the Century 16 theater selling tickets at $6.50 a pop.

Far less than what everyone else was charging.

And knowing me, that would've been enough of a reason to give my son a movie experience he would never forget.

Thankfully I didn't.

Thank God I didn't.

What transpired at the Aurora theater last Friday is something that no one could've ever imagined.

Something no one will ever comprehend.

Certainly not my kids.

All three of them.

As you might imagine, the local coverage of the shooting has been wall-to-wall.

There's just no escaping it.

Even sports radio is covering it.

How could they not?

And while you might think a story like this would have the kids running the other way.

For my kids it's had the opposite effect.

They are watching the news.

When they NEVER watched the news.

They are talking about guns.

When they NEVER talked about guns.

They are genuinely scared.

When they were NEVER scared.

I was sitting in my office last night.

Late last night.

Writing this blog.

When my eight-year-old daughter walked in.

In tears.

"I can't sleep dad," she whispered.  

"I'm scared of James Holmes."

I immediately gave her a hug.

Told her that he was in jail.

And made sure she knew there was nothing for her to be scared about..

Then I made a couple of fart jokes.

And that did the trick.

This time.

But the fact that she even knows his name is terrible.

And the fact that she can't sleep because of this despicable excuse of human waste.

That's crushing.

When word first came out that the suspect was a neuroscience major, my 15-year-old daughter was appalled.

She's the brains in the family.

"He is so smart," she said.

"Why didn't he use his brain to cure cancer instead of killing people?"

I didn't have an answer.

Is there an answer?

From the moment we learned of this tragedy I have been up front with the kids.

Answering every question they ask.

Or at least trying to.

And there have been many.

My son and I were back in the theater early Friday morning.

To see that 10:30 showing.

We arrived a little after 10.

Which we never do.

He was wondering if it was safe to go.

That's when I told him the safest day to fly is the day after a plane crash.

I had to say something.

Since we arrived in the theater so early we had plenty of time to talk.

And that's what we did.

We talked.

We talked about Batman.

We talked about where the exit doors were located.

And we talked about what had taken place ten hours earlier.

Just 21 miles away.

Things no 13-year-old should ever have to think about.

And no 15-year-old.

And certainly no eight-year-old.

But instead of pretending that it never happened.

And just flipping on Disney Channel.

I've been just trying to help make some sense of this whole thing.

I just wish someone could explain this all to me.