I am really sensitive. I have been known to cry at commercials. The thought of my kids growing up and not “needing” me anymore makes me well up with unwanted emotions.
This afternoon, Ryan and I were watching Toy Story 2. In case you haven’t seen the movie, we get to a scene where Jessie (a toy cowgirl) shares her story with Woody (a pull-string toy cowboy) about how her best friend (a little girl named Emily) grew up and didn’t need her anymore.
The scene rips my heart out – Emily’s toys and dolls are eventually replaced with nail polish and telephone calls, then poor Jessie gets accidentally knocked behind the bed and isn’t found for months… that is until Emily drops lipstick behind the bed and as she’s retrieving it, she finds Jessie and picks her up.
Beyond thrilled, Jessie is next seen in the car alongside Emily. When the car reaches its destination, the audience realizes that Emily is dropping Jessie off at a donation box. Cue my tears.
Similarly, in the first Toy Story, we see Woody’s sob story when his best friend (a little boy named Andy) grows up, as all children do. His western-themed room with its cowboys and horses makes way for more grown-up toys (front and center is Buzz Lightyear, a Space Ranger with flashing lights and laser sounds).
The story ends happily of course, but it makes me sad. Ryan and his best friend Monkey are a fabulous pair. The day Monkey gets thrown aside, I very well may keep him in bed with me. After all, my oldest friend Pummy (a kangaroo with an attached Joey aptly named ‘Joey’) still resides in my bedroom.
Sob – once Ryan doesn’t need Monkey anymore, that means Cory and I are next! Just last night Cory commented on how the kids officially don’t need us anymore – in the past 24 hours, Alexa sat up unassisted and Ryan read a book to him from memory before bed.
We’d better get ready for the donation box.