Raising children can feel effortless when joyful pockets of time happen—an art activity or singing in the car or campfire for s’mores. Except the “meaningful” conversations often make me wonder how little or how much to say to connect with my 11-year-old son Darien. A few days ago, we go to the movie theater and watch The Bad Guys. While seeing the storyline unfold, my mind plays the reel where I effortlessly distill the most poignant insights and lessons from the film, then artfully share those in free flowing talking with my son. Surprise. Not so.

The characters are immortal in that timeless way we activate and participate in complex life to fail, succeed, waddle, lie, covet, adore, dislike, stagger, and wonder. Will I ever become wholly good? Movie characters mirror us, right, since the screenwriters are human and gander around for inspiration to “invent” the roles played on the screen? To extrapolate on the imaginary spectrum, we have animals come to anthropomorphic life: spider, wolf, fox, piranha, snake, shark, and guinea pig (in some story stretches, thousands of them to widen plot rather than insight).

Five animals—wolf, snake, shark, piranha, and spider—have been a criminal pack for a long while, returning the loot to a large warehouse space they call home, with piles of gold coins and cash stacked randomly. And in the freezer one transformational orange popsicle. When the movie begins, shark and snake attempt to share the frozen confectionary treat. But as snake hordes the one orange pop, taunting his colleague shark, the reaction is for shark to swallow snake whole. Power begets power. And this wisdom nugget is what I attempt to emphasize with my son in conversation. Our every action will have a reaction in those closest to us in life and the wider circle, too, and clearly beyond them.

For some time now, this animal pack has been renowned for their exterior behaviors. The entire city expects more thieving, robbing, and heisting from The Bad Guys as if external behaviors are occurring in a vacuum absent any internal navigation. Our criminal gang internalizes this expectation and live to hype further their claim to fame: the most competent villains the city has ever known. Then another orange popsicle moment occurs when grandma gives wolf a hug. She nearly falls face splat forward, tumbling down steep stairs, when wolf catches her to safety—rather than purse snatch, his original goal for grandma.

As her savior, she thankfully tells him, “You are so good.” Even the big bad wolf reacts to heartfelt energy, so his tail starts wagging. The same fate befalls the rest of wolf’s clan. Accepting the challenge to “go good,” each animal begins lapping up recognition from fellow citizens as a critter with capacity to bring good deeds to the daily day, rather than nefarious plots to loot what belongs to others.

Later in the storyline, when their own stash is stolen, they admit that being on the reciprocal side of having something taken from them, feels lousy. Each one of them has a tail wagging physical response to acting good for good’s sake, altruism’s physical signaling we humans can experience. And known to exist in the animal kingdom as well. (Plot complexity deepens when key characters are not quite who they pretend to be—yet no plot spoilers explicated here.)

Happy to describe at film’s end the one strategic orange popsicle placed in the freezer so snake can truly give his friend shark the snack to ease his disheveled feelings. The two learned how to share. From this catalyst moment, the criminal five go on to return stolen millions of dollars to schools, hospitals, and other charities. They also agree to one year in prison for prior thieveries. Redemption’s path is rarely without obstacles so each character must act even badder still before the final transformation settles in for good.

When I first tried to talk with Darien about The Bad Guys, I hurried into some summary and just started talking. I love movies! He got quiet and I shut up. Oooops. Not at all a good way to launch the “meaningful” conversation with an 11-year-old. Ask questions, you idiot, is the gentle way that I talk to myself.

“Who do you think of the characters goes through really big change?” I asked Darien.

Spark of energy and then, “Oh, snake for sure. And he…” Maybe ten minutes or so later, I realized that my son had a lot to say. How meaningful for his mother to learn what he is thinking and perceiving in this unpredictable world of ours. Turned out to be a good conversation. Grateful.