“Good, better, best, bested. How do you like that for a declension, young man? Eh?”

That’s a question that George, the history professor in Edward Albee’s 1962 play, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?,” uses to test the mettle of Nick, a younger biology professor. They’ve both had a lot to drink. It’s well past midnight. Nick’s wife will shortly commence vomiting.

I had that declension on my mind from the moment my wife and I decided to take our children — Penn, 15, and Hattie, 13 — to the fiery new Broadway production of “Virginia Woolf,” starring Tracy Letts as George and Amy Morton as Martha, his wife. It’s a witty but sinister play, stocked like a nightmare bodega with adult themes. Were our teenagers ready for it?

To be bested, of course, is to be outwitted or defeated. My wife, Cree, and I have often worried about being both of those things when it comes to taking Penn and Hattie to plays, movies and concerts that are somewhat beyond their comfort zones. We’ve pushed them a bit. It hasn’t always worked out.

When Penn was 7 or 8, for example, I took him to a solid but mostly forgettable movie called “Ladder 49” (2004), with Joaquin Phoenix and John Travolta as Baltimore firefighters. It was rated PG-13, but I thought I could get away with taking my little guy. I was wrong.