I guess it was inevitable. Andy in Toy Story would grow up just like little Jackie Paper in "Puff, The Magic Dragon." To this day I cry when I hear Peter, Paul and Mary sing the song so I wasn't surprised that I got sentimental when I saw Toy Story 3 last night. What I wasn't prepared for was the complete welling of emotion. I had been warned by a friend on Facebook that this was a tearjerker but I didn't see it coming through Woody's antics and Buzz Lightyear's Spanish speaking tango romp. Then I became a blubbering mess. My 12 year old said I was crying louder than anyone else in the theatre. You see, in two years I'll have my own kid heading off to college and I'm already filling with nostalgia. My baby, the one who was photographed in his diapers and cowboy boots, the one who poured flour all over himself, who cried in the closet when he missed the ball that could have won the game, then years later played on the team that won the championship, will head to college too. And like Andy's mom inToy Story 3 I'm not prepared to let him go and be left standing alone in a cleared out room.
This sophomore year has been a difficult one and there have been many times I've wished he would grow up, but when I actually stop to consider it, like I did last night, I realize how I'm dreading this rite of passage. It occurs to me that it probably hit my parents like a load of bricks too. I was the only one in our family to go to college. My dad only completed 8th grade, my mother dropped out of nursing school to get married, and my sisters chose not to go. My father was immensely proud to have a college student but I know when he wrote the check that guaranteed my spot at the University of Colorado he had a difficult time signing his name. Everything he dreamed of and dreaded would come to pass with the misty eyed stroke of a pen. My mom took it hard too when she brought me to Boulder and I couldn't wait to run out with my new found friends. Now as my son hurtles towards adulthood (he's 16, has a license, a truck and his first job) and passes through the house for food and showers, I can't help but wish I had hung on to his playthings. I wish I hadn't been in such a rush to send them to Goodwill. They're gone, and soon he will be too, and I'll be missing him in a room without toys and my boy.
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