wire.

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One of my kids is really into making comic books. He loves “The Simpsons.” He can solve a Rubik’s cube in under 30 seconds. Last year he bought a Duncan yo-yo from a general store in New Hampshire, and about six months later, he competed in a regional yo-yo competition. He’s smart and funny, and really sweet with animals. He’s 12, and like a lot of kids, he also struggles with anxiety. I’m front loading with all this, because now I want to tell you about how we let him watch a horror movie every single night last spring for at least two months.

The gateway was something innocuous, like the “Goosebumps” TV show. Then he checked out “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark” from the school library. Then he was home sick one day and asked for an actual scary movie, and my husband suggested “The Sixth Sense.” I kept asking, “Are you scared? Is it too much?” He wasn’t. He wanted to know what was next.

In real life, he was navigating a tough year. But this newfound obsession with scary movies made me worry. Shouldn’t he be taking in stories about, like, people showing kindness? What happened to “Mrs. Doubtfire” or “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids”? If we wanted this kid to once again feel like the world was a safe place for him, surely there was a better way.

And yet.

I turned to Google, and miracle of miracles, the internet delivered with this top search result: “Why Some Anxious People Find Comfort in Horror Movies.”

The writer quotes a researcher in Denmark, who takes a stab (ha) at explaining how this all makes sense. First, there’s an inherent psychological distance, making negative emotions caused by the film feel manageable. The brain may feel a fight-or-flight response, but it’s confined to a controlled environment. He says, “I’m not surprised to learn that some anxious individuals find horror films therapeutic. The genre allows us to voluntarily — and under controlled circumstances — get experience with negative emotion.”

So in theory, for someone whose brain is going into fight-or-flight mode for everyday situations, feeling  those same feelings in an environment where you know you’re safe is a kind of relief. My son would just say he likes the jump scares, but I think there’s something to all this.

In real life, he was navigating a tough year. But this newfound obsession with scary movies made me worry. Shouldn’t he be taking in stories about, like, people showing kindness?

Scary movies are the opposite for me: You couldn’t pay me to watch a single one. When my son  told me “The Ring” wasn’t scary, I tried to pretend it didn’t give me nightmares when I was 25 and paying my own taxes, or that it was the film that made me swear off scary movies in the theater.

And so my husband became my son’s movie buddy. We laid some ground rules. They could watch certain R-rated movies together (like “Get Out”), but if he wanted to watch alone, the movie had to be PG-13 or approved by us. And no gore-centric horror like “Saw.”

They watched Jordan Peele’s catalog and talked about the themes, and most of M. Night Shyamalan’s (the ones that are PG-13). They both liked “Old.” I told them I’d seen the memes. They watched “Poltergeist” and “Paranormal Activity.” I told them how I read “The Exorcist” in high school, and it’s why I’ve never allowed an Ouija board to cross the threshold into our house.

They did a tour de genres: psychological, paranormal, found footage, religious/possession, monster, zombie, comedy/horror, etc. They started rating movies on jump scares. I’m told top contenders were “The Visit,” “The Conjuring,” “Insidious,” “Lights Out,” “Ouija” and “The Grudge.”

“Zombieland” was a surprise favorite for them both. My daughter joined for “It,” the 2017 remake, and they loved it because the kids swore a lot, and they thought it was funny. My son says his overall favorite was “Pet Sematary.”

For a kid who was dealing with a lot, internally and externally, scary movie night was a time when no one was asking anything of him. It was a couple hours when he could rely on being in a safe, cozy basement. He could have protected time with his dad, when the usual rules about snacks or drinks didn’t apply. It created a sense of routine, too. It was something they both could count on.

My son went to sleepaway camp in August, and when he came home, he decided that either he’d watched every scary movie available on streaming, or he didn’t need them as much.

I like to think it’s the latter. Something inside him shifted, opened up, and I think the world around him felt less threatening. He got really into “Star Wars,” instead. He had more space for story, and characters, and a kind of inner life. But those scary movies were there for him when it counted.  Or when he needed them the most.

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