Not in the “Oh I’ll never get those hours back” kind of way. It was a decent movie. I didn’t hate it at all…until the next time I went to clear out some of the kid’s toys.
If you haven’t seen it basically it’s about toys not being used as much and what happens to them at that point. Do they get thrown out, put in the attic, donated?
Obviously the toys are the main characters, so they have personalities, feelings and various other bullshit characteristics that make them likable.
That’s great for a movie I guess. But in real life that idea sucks. Especially for people like me…cause I like to throw shit out. There is absolutely no better feeling for me than throwing shit out.
My husband is a shit keeper and that drives me crazy. He has an entire bag full of little, tiny, miniscule pieces that have fallen off various toys that we own. He vows that one day he will glue them back on…he just needs the right kind of glue. The glue costs like $10 bucks. The car he’s trying to fix cost 79 cents. Throw that shit out.
Ok, I’m off track. The point of this post is that I now feel so completely and totally guilty every time I go to throw out a toy. I feel like they’re looking at me. And begging for their lives. Especially the stuffed animals. Those bastards are the worst…
"Don't throw us out, Mean Lady!"
To lessen my guilt I eventually started throwing them out in pairs so they’ll at least have a friend in the trash. And who knows, they might escape. I’ll poke a little hole in the bag to give them a fighting chance.
Clearly I have to get all of this purging done while the kids are otherwise occupied. Because if they catch me in the act that dump truck with the three wheels collecting dust under their bed will suddenly become their most favoritest possession in the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD! They can’t live without it!
So anyway, thank you Disney Pixar for creating a movie that tugs at the heartstrings of mothers everywhere and has me having a full on conversation with a broken fire truck trying to explain the situation to him:
“I do feel bad. I really do. But it’s not you, it’s me. Actually…no…it’s you. You’re the one with the broken ladder. I would keep you but it’s created a jagged edge that’s just not safe for the kids anymore. I supposed I could file it down…but that’s really extra work for no reason. We have 19 other fire trucks. Sorry, buddy. Sorry.”