I recall Saturday morning trips to the Albert Cinema in Brighouse – during the days when Brighouse had a cinema – with my mother. Invariably the fare was a Disney cartoon or some other re-release.

It's a part of my life that has faded with the years but I retain hazy memories of matinees with Mum, now also gone. I want to recreate some of that mood and atmosphere with my own children. In fact, I'm even looking forward to experiencing what's been dubbed "pester power" – the ability of a child to manipulate poor old Dad by twisting him around his or her dinky little pinkie.

Of course, friends with older children tell of the perils of pester power and roll their eyes at my puppy-dog eagerness to be a perfect father. It's a nightmare, they say, especially when one child is old enough to see a particular film and another isn't. Cue much wailing and thrashing of limbs.

It's the movie queue equivalent of sneaking your kid brother onto a ride at the fairground, even though he's likely to plummet to his death when the cars go into a loop-the-loop. Older siblings don't bother about things like that, just as long as junior quits whining.

I have all this to come, but it's not far off. Two-year-old Abigail is already entranced by trailers for WALL-E, starring Pixar's lonely robot hero. Luckily Christmas is coming and doubtless Santa will look kindly on her request, cunningly written in Dad's scrawl, to drop a DVD down the chimney.

Numerous warnings have come my way. So-called screamer screenings might become my salvation when Abigail and little sister Emily start showing an interest in what's on at the flicks.

Then there is the prospect of a family ticket, whereby all four of us can soak up the traditions of modern cinema: popcorn, ice creams and fizzy pop designed to turn cuddly moppets into uncontrollable banshees. Ah, joy.

But here's the rub. Today's cinema is no longer the cheap day out it once was. Full price admission for two adults and two teenagers might top £40.

No wonder customers are grasped firmly by the wallet as soon as they enter these garish temples to box office commerce.

A colleague in London told me how he frequents a market where pirate discs are openly on sale. He boldly asked one buyer why he went for the cheap and nasty option. The answer was obvious: in these times of credit crunch, a fiver for an evening's entertainment at home represents a good deal.

He's breaking the law, but I can't bring myself to cast a stone in protest.