Toy Story 3

We have video of Nicholas, age 3, sitting on the couch you see above, singing through all of the Toy Story songs by himself. That would have been May of 1996. The picture you see above was October of the same year.

Nicholas was a rambunctious toddler. The only movie he'd really sat mesmerized through was 101 Dalmatians, which he would watch relentlessly. But that was at home, where even if he did want to get up and play, it was no big deal. So when he was not quite 3, at Thanksgiving 1995, we took the leap to go see Toy Story with him, mostly because we really wanted to see it too. I had odds that we wouldn't make it a half hour into the movie before one of us was walking around the back of the theater to try and keep him quiet.

That boy sat stock still through the entire thing, never taking his eyes off the screen, never saying a word.

When we left the theater, we went to Burger King where they were having the Toy Story kids meal tie-in and a monster was born. Nick's Christmas? Buzz and Woody (We bought early so they weren't all sold out.) Nick's 3rd birthday in January? Rex, Alien, Slinky Dog. By his 4th birthday a year later, after the video was released just in time for the holidays, there were even more additions to his Toy Story collection.

So it was a very bittersweet time yesterday when Bob and I took Nick, Jessie, Sammi, along with Courtney, to see the last of the trilogy yesterday.

Toy Story 3 finds Andy, like Nick, at 17 and getting ready to head off to college. Andy's aged a little faster since he was supposed to be 6 or so in the first movie, but the complete circle of the character and our "little" boy was, well, heartbreaking.

I have never sat in a movie with tears rolling repeatedly down my face like I did yesterday. The 3-D glasses were a good cover. I was a goner at the opening video of young Andy playing with his toys while "You've Got a Friend in Me" plays, hearkening back to that chili-bowl haircut's of Nick, in his plaid overalls, singing with all his heart on our couch. (Now I'm teared up again. As a non-crier, this is very disconcerting.)

In short, Pixar has managed to make a film about some plastic toys that plumbs the depth of humanity and what it means to grow up, let go, and hang on together. Sure, there will be master's theses on its comment on post-modern consumerism, blah, blah, blah. The heart of this movie is about being loved, what it means as that changes over the years, and how the cycles of childhood and age don't make it any less poignant and heartbreaking when it's your own child, who will always be that little boy even when you hug the 6'2 man he's become.



P.S. I've already warned my little Jessie girl that I will try my best not to smother mother her these last few years I have her when Nick has left home, but I make no promises.