The Student took me to the cinema for my Mother’s Day treat this year. As my regular reader will be aware, this is a safe bet with me, as I like to keep up with the latest films (see last week’s ramblings).
We saw Lady Bird, which everyone says is best viewed by mothers and daughters and it certainly chimed with us. We spent the last 10 minutes or so holding hands and sobbing happily.
I say happily as this is something the Student has inherited from me. We both enjoy a good greet at the cinema or theatre. We can blub at feelgood as well as sad stories. Indeed, some of our favourite films, such as Little Miss Sunshine, we can watch many times over, crying in advance because we know what is going to happen.
When we went to see Les Miserables at the theatre in London, the Student surpassed herself by starting the ball rolling before the curtain had gone up. Mr P was quite bemused when she called him afterwards and said: “It was brilliant – me and mum cried all the way through.”
It happened to her again recently when she finally got the chance to see the musical Hamilton, which she has been obsessed by since it was on Broadway. She called the next day: “Mum, it was the best night of my life. I cried my eyes out.”
This trait first manifested itself many years ago when I took her to a production of West Side Story. She had watched the film with me and knew all the songs. When one of the characters (SPOILER ALERT!) got shot, she didn’t take her eyes off the stage but sat forward, right on the edge of her seat, and a single tear ran down her cheek.
We were surrounded in the theatre by ladies of a certain age who started nudging each other and looking at this wee girl, who still did not blink as she stared at the stage, and started dabbing at their eyes with tissues. She had sparked mass hysteria. Happy days.