Couch Please, Mum

I wanted to give Nathaniel a grown-up night.

Not a big gesture. Just quality time with my eldest son, who was growing up so fast. The kind where you sit side by side, eat real food for a change (read: anything not shaped like a nugget and drowned in tomato sauce), and pass on the sacred lessons that shaped my personality.

Nineties movies.

Tonight’s exhibit: The Matrix.

I had plans.

Westley, unfortunately, had strategy.

He’d been suspiciously calm all afternoon. Quiet. Relaxed. Chilled. The kind of rested that feels less like luck and more like surveillance. I clocked it immediately. He was conserving energy. Banking it. Like he knew the good stuff was coming later and intended to be awake for all of it.

At bedtime, I activated the routine.

1/ Bath.

2/ Chase around the house begging him to put on his nappy.

3/ Catch him. Dress him while he flopped about like a stranded salmon.

4/ Success.

5/ Bottle. Teddy. Blankie.

We’re go for launch.

I tried the bed.

Then another bottle.

Then the cot.

Then again.

And again.

At some point I stopped counting “last bottles” and just started praying.

Each time I laid him down, he popped back up like a cheerful jack-in-the-box with impeccable timing.

Right as Neo appeared.

Cot.

Again.

Just as Morpheus began explaining the Matrix.

Cot.

Again.

When he held up the red pill and the blue pill like some cinematic sacrament, Westley reappeared. Perfectly timed.

Almost disrespectful.

Finally, he came out clutching his teddy.

Hair everywhere.

Eyes bright.

Voice small and hopeful.

“Couch please, Mum.”

And that was it.

My heart folded. I caved. He’s too cute, I am eternally defenceless!

The Matrix continued, green code dripping down the screen.

Nathaniel was transfixed.

I was quietly thrilled watching him experience it for the first time.

The Thai food arrived and smelled like spicy heaven.

Westley tried the food.

A brave attempt followed by immediate regret.

His face said betrayal.

So I got up. Again. And made popcorn.

I missed the rooftop scene where Trinity says, “Dodge this,” and blows the Agent away point blank.

I will never forgive this.

Westley wedged himself between us, crunching enthusiastically. He ruined suspense like it was his calling.

Agents leapt across walls.

Crunch.

Neo bent physics.

Crunch crunch.

Bullets slowed to a whisper.

Commentary.

Then, as Cipher made his deal and announced his betrayal, Westley interrupted again.

“Mum.”

I sighed.

“Mum. Help.”

I turned.

He was pointing at his nose.

There was something in it.

My brain shifted gears instantly. Adrenaline arrived. I leaned in. Squinted.

Popcorn.

Up his nose.

The movie stopped. Everything stopped.

I sent Nathaniel sprinting for the torch from his toolbox. I tried to stay calm while mentally calculating what to pack for the emergency department.

Westley, meanwhile, was delighted by the attention.

Nathaniel returned with the torch and put ChatGPT on voice mode like we were calling in air support.

Suggestions were made. None involved magic.

I started packing. Time to get my frequent visitor card stamped at the hospital, I guess.

Then.

A pause.

A tiny intake of breath.

A sneeze.

And out it flew.

The popcorn kernel launched free like it had been waiting for its cue.

The kids lost it. Absolute hysteria. Westley laughed like this was the greatest trick he’d ever pulled. Nathaniel was howling.

I stood there, heart pounding, coming down from DEFCON 1 while everyone else celebrated like it had all been a planned bit.

The movie was ruined. Completely. Trinity’s best line wasted. Morpheus forever overshadowed by Westley’s antics. Even Neo's ninja moves were no match for what unfolded in my lounge room.

Eventually, exhaustion won.

Nathaniel and I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep instantly, bodies just giving up. Westley outlasted us. Exactly as planned. He watched his iPad. He tucked us in. He soaked up being the centre of everything.

When I woke later, the house was quiet.

Westley had finally drifted off in the middle of the bed.

Happy.

Included.

Satisfied.

I didn’t get my grown-up movie night.

But somehow, I got something better.

Even if I never see The Matrix the same way again.