Sure you may want your kid in Hollywood, crack habit and all, but that Lindsay Lohan thing ain’t that easy.
Getting your spawn to perform on cue when that’s the last thing they want to do is painful.
How do I know? Because, as you may recall, that’s what happened when mine was scouted to appear in a pilot. Unfortunately there were no other kids on set to take his place (big mistake when you’re dealing with child actors – hello, producers?), and my stress levels went through the roof trying to coax him out of his never-before-seen shell.
Why would I bother? Picture this: a 15-strong crew, producers, cameras and the sweet smell of time and money burning. What would you do? I caved, I begged, I bribed and then I gave up, and got us out.
The first thing I did once back inside the house was inhale six giant-sized Tootsie Rolls and a large glass of white wine. Yeah, I know, mature…I cope. I never ‘anxious eat’ but my traumatic stint as a showbiz mom tipped me over the edge. It was less a case of ‘Whatever Happened Baby Jane?’ and more ‘How the Hell Did I Get Through That Bottle So Quickly?”
Later that evening, after supper and bath-time, when the three of us were snuggled up in bed together, I asked Jett why he was so against filming. This is what he said: “I didn’t want to be left inside the TV, I want to keep living with you and Daddy.”
Oh my gosh. Now it makes sense. How did I not know? I was so consumed with what I would wear to the premiere that I failed to look at it from a five-year-olds point of view.
And this is the adorable and heart-breaking part – he actually thought, just like Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon, that if he did any filming he would be left inside the TV and be separated from us.
No wonder he didn’t want to be on TV, for him it was a matter of life and death.
Oh, now I get it. Didn’t then. Duh. Parenthood ain’t for pussies – that’s all I’m saying.
Kid = Oscar winner.
Mom and dad = Razzie runner-up.