Yesterday was the official last day of school. Kids were home by 10 am. They only went into school to pretty much say good-bye to everyone and pick up their reports cards. I think it's a waste of an effort to get up and dressed and on the bus. Couldn't they just have sent them home the day before with their report cards?
But, whatever. Not to brag, but my kids came home with raving reviews. They had straight A's all the way down. The teachers wrote wonderful little comments about how great and well behaved and talented they are. It was one of those moments where a tear snuck out and I sniffled a bit, so proud of my babies who are growing up so fast. Too fast.
To celebrate the end of a long school year and those glowing report cards, DH and I took them to the movies. We went to see Toy Story 3.
I'm pretty sure I have mentioned before that Toy Story is HUGE in our house. My son is OBSESSED with Woody, Buzz, Jessie, Bullseye, and all the other Toy Story Gang. He can sit and draw those characters for HOURS. And...(I'm gonna brag again)...he's really good at it too. He's a great cartoonist for his age. His dream is to work for Disney or Pixar or Nickelodeon. Maybe make his own line of comic books. Or his own cartoon show. Maybe his own cartoon movie.
So, we went to see Toy Story 3. And right from the beginning, the sappy Mom in me begins to start to climb up from my heart into my throat. Andy, the little boy who so much loved his Woody and Buzz, is all grown up. He's going to college.
And one day, my kids will be all grown up. Going to college. And this movie shows how much life keeps going forward. Keeps moving on. You are introduced to a montage of home videos of Andy, watching him as a child who's imagination with his beloved toys is his whole world. Capturing those moments in time.
Then, there he his. Taller than his Mom. He has a cell phone. A laptop. His Buzz Lightyear wallpapered walls are covered with posters and stickers. He even drives his own car.
We are told that some of the toys are no longer with Woody's gang. Lost or sold at yard sales. R.C. Wheezey. Bo Peep. My lump grew even bigger as I thought of the toys I had thrown out or sold because my kids were no longer interested in them. I thought of toys that I had as a child, only to outgrow them and toss them aside.
The movie goes on and it involves the toys accidentally going to a Day Care center and Andy looking for them. He had no intention of getting rid of them. He wanted to box them up. Put them in the attic. Only take Woody to college with him.
Of course, it's a kid's movie and hilarity ensues at the Day Care. There's an extremely intense scene towards the end that involves a pit of fire and the toys realizing that their time has come to an end. They bravely just try to be there for each other as they all hold hands.
This is where the lump in my throat somehow escaped. A small sob rushed passed my lips and I tried to suck it in with a huge sniffle. This only resulted in some woman turning around to glare at me. A heartless woman who was too busy Facebooking on her iPhone to see that this was more than a kid's movie. Too dumb to appreciate the artwork that went into this movie. (Sorry. It's just that it might be my son that is behind a movie like this one day.)
There are other scenes. Scenes that made me think of how fast my kids are growing up. Scenes that made tears run down my face.
But the thing that got me the most was Buster. Buster, the little puppy that came at the end of the first movie. Buster, the dog that became one of Woody's good pals in the second movie. In Toy Story 3, Woody whistles for Buster. And an elderly, obese, graying dog slowly walks into Andy's room. Even Buster was getting old. Crap, Buster was near death's door. I really had to struggle to keep the sobs in.
And it is all so true. You outgrow your toys. Your childhood pet dies. You just know that Andy is going to get that call one day at college. His Mom is going to be on the other end, telling him that Buster had to be put down. Then Andy is gonna be the downer that night at a kegger, drinking beer and slobbering and slurring about his beloved childhood dog. C'mon. We've all been there. No?
Poor Buster. His time is coming so soon. A lot sooner than those toys.
So, bottom line? I hated this movie. Hated that it made my stomach twist up in knots. Hated that it reminded me that my kids are going to grow up and grow out of things. Hated that my dogs are going to get old and fat and barely move and force us to make a decision.
I hated this beautiful, well written, well executed movie. And I am never, ever getting rid of my kids' toys. Especially my son's Woody and Buzz and my daughter's Jessie.
No comments:
Post a Comment