Today, I took the boys to see Toy Story 3.
(While I did get a few laughs out of the movie, I don't know that I would classify it as the "Breakout comedy of the summer". Maybe for the hard-hearted...)
The movie opened with footage of Andy, as a little guy, celebrating early birthdays and playing with beloved toys. Then the camera panned out, and you realized that this was video footage being replayed as Andy was preparing to leave for college. I should have taken that as a sign, and got up to leave right then and there. Instead, I stayed in my seat, and began hoarding the napkins. I knew I'd need them.
When the first Toy Story came out in 1995, I was single, young, and carefree. Some friends and I went to see it because we had nothing better to do on a Friday night. A touching tale about friendship, it took us all back to our own childhoods, full of hope and imagination.
Fast forward 15 years. The young boy in the first movie is all grown up. And so am I. I have three kids who are growing up right before my eyes. My oldest is preparing to enter middle school, and I know that in just a few short years, we'll be cleaning out her room in preparation for college. How does that happen so fast?
I won't spoil the ending for those who haven't seen the movie yet, but suffice it to say that I was sobbing, almost uncontrollably. Jack climbed on my lap, turned to me and whispered "Are those happy tears or sad tears?" I could barely answer...just sobbed out something resembling "A little of both". In his young mind, life drags by and his days are marked by when and what he'll eat next and how many times a day he gets to swim...so I can't possibly expect him to understand why I held onto him so tight.
I'll be pulling out the video camera a little more often from here on. I just wish that as director of my life's movie, I could yell "CUT" and stop the film from rolling quite so fast.