Nathalie is my daughter. When she started her adventure into elementary school, I thought I should start recording my thoughts before they fluttered away with the rest of my memory.







Friday, July 15, 2011

Toy Story Free

Dear Nathalie,

So....you still have trouble making the "th" sound.  I may have added a complication to this particular combination of letters by spelling your name the way I did.  Blame it on the french in me.  It's something you're going to have to deal with your whole life....people mispronouncing your name.  Mommy had to deal with that with her last name...still dealing with it.  Anyway.....

You are, at present, watching Toy Story 3 for the...oh, I don't know.....100th time.  Mommy can't watch it with you....I cry every time.  There are two scenes in particular that get me.  Of course, the moment when the toys all hold hands and resign themselves to a fiery death.....such brave little guys.  The real tear-jerker though....the moment Andy's mom walks into his empty room and realizes her little boy is all grown up and moving away.

I think that is a moment every parent fears.  I can't spend too much time thinking about when YOU'RE going to be all grown up and move away, but I remember the look on your grandma's face when I left home for the first time.  It was a look that was just a jumbled up mess of emotion.  Was she sad that I was leaving her....was she scared that I wouldn't be ok on my own......was she proud of me for growing up to be such a strong, secure young woman????  I'm pretty sure it was all of that.

The constant struggle with parenting is the balance between wanting to protect your children from everything bad in the world and wanting them to grow up and be their own person.  What is that old saying about roots and wings? 

Luckily, you're only five.  I have another thirteen years to worry about the day I have to let you go off and be an adult.  Until then, dear Nathalie, I will enjoy every moment you ask for Toy Story Free and we will celebrate your birthday on February Fird. 

Love,
Mom

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