MY son emailed to say they were thinking of getting tickets for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang for Jonah's third birthday. Did I think that was a good idea?

Jonah loves the video of the film, so long as he can fast-forward the scary bits. He loves to hear the theme song playing over and over on car journeys. But you can't fast-forward a stage show and you have to sit through a lot more than just one song. In fact, you have to sit still and quiet in one place for two or three hours. That's a tall order for a just-three-year old.

Worse still, his birthday was on a Tuesday, and there were no matinees that day, which meant an evening performance. He would have to stay up well past his normal bedtime. If there's one condition certain to guarantee bad behaviour in a toddler, it's being over-tired. And in a theatre, with other people around who'd paid inflated London prices for their tickets and looked forward to it all for ages? No; I was pretty sure, right there and then: the whole thing was a very bad idea.

But grandmothers have to be tactful. On the phone, I was careful not to tell my son right out that I thought he must be mad even to consider such a thing. Instead, I asked warily, "Do you think he'll cope so late at night? Do you think it's fair on other people?"

The theatre advertised the show as suitable for three-year-olds and upwards, so they'd expect a bit of fidgeting. Presumably other people buying tickets would expect it too. On the other hand, perhaps Jonah would simply go to sleep. It would be a bit of a waste of a ticket, but at least he'd not disturb anyone. It might even give us an excuse to leave the show early. "It's up to you, of course," I added.

So we went. Once in the theatre, Jonah perched excitedly on his seat-raising cushion, peered down at the empty stage. "Where's Chitty?," he asked.

The house lights dimmed a little and the music started, a catchy tune that Jonah knew. He beamed. The lights dimmed still further. Jonah hates the dark. He clutched his mother's hand. "I want to go home!"

Oh dear! I recalled a theatre trip with Jonah's father when small (though not as small as Jonah was now), most of which he'd spent cowering behind the seat in terror. Was history going to repeat itself?

If Jonah was frightened by dim lights, what one earth would he make of the child-catcher when he appeared? For those of you who don't know the story, he's the villain of villains, guaranteed to give even the most robust child nightmares.

Once the action began, Jonah sat with his hand in his mouth and the sort of look on his face you have when you get to that moment in a horror film where the heroine pushes open a door in the dark (why do they never put the light on in horror films?) and you just know there's something hideous lying in wait beyond it. Things were definitely not going well. It had all been a terrible mistake, a very bad idea.

Then we got to the sweet factory scene and suddenly, into the midst of all the dancers on the stage, came half a dozen golden dogs - real dogs, labradors, retrievers, wagging their tails, leaping around. Jonah laughed with delight.

From then on, he was entranced. He loved the dance sequences, he chuckled over the funny bad men, he joined in the clapping after every song. And when at the end of the first half, the magic car itself rose into the air above the auditorium, his face outshone even its gleaming splendour.

He was dismayed when the interval interrupted the story. "I want to see Chitty!" he wailed. His mum had to explain that intervals were necessary "so we can all go for a wee". He couldn't wait to get back to his seat afterwards.

The dreaded child-catcher appeared - and was as thoroughly sinister as he had been in the film. But this was live theatre and the children in the audience booed and hissed at the villain, and Jonah joined in enthusiastically.

What had we worried about? Not once did Jonah fidget in his seat or ask to run around. Not once did he come anywhere near falling asleep.

And after those first moments, he was no more afraid than any other child, because he knew it would all come right in the end.

In fact, he loved it all. His eyes were still shining as we left the theatre and made our way home.

And we cynical adults? We loved it too, every bit of it.

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