Empathetic boy

The phone rang in my office Wednesday afternoon and I knew it was my wife.  I knew it was my wife since I have call display.  I also have a good friend who works at the local phone company and he can fiddle with the widgets over there so that anyone who has call display will see 'Aim Sigh & Dex' when receiving a call from our house.

This appeals to me at my most fundamental level of geekiness.

"Hellooooo," I say.  The extended 'o' reserved just for my darling wife.

"Hey, Si.  Declan just did something so cute that I had to call and tell you about it!"  This wasn't terribly out of the ordinary since Amy will often share the more exciting bits of her adventures at home with me while at work.  And I don't at all mind the distraction.

"And what was that?"

"Well," she says, the excitement already mounting in her voice, "we were just sitting in the living room and watching Toy Story.  And you know that part where Buzz and Woody are next door at Sid's house?"

"Yeah."

"And Woody wants to escape but Buzz still thinks he's really Buzz Lightyear and he shouts out, 'To infinity... and beyond!', and then he jumps off the second floor railing to try to fly out the window?"

"Yeah."

"And then Buzz falls in slow motion while the sad music plays and he crashes on the floor and loses his arm?"

"Uh huh."

And Woody eventually finds him in the sister's room dressed up as Mrs. Nesbitt and having tea with the dolls?"

"Yup."

"WELL!!" she says with finality.  "Well, as soon as Buzz started to fall from the railing, Declan stuck his lip out and started to pout.  And by the time Buzz crashed to the floor, he was crying!  Just bawling his eyes out!  I had to go and snuggle him and tell him it was OK and show him that, see, there he is dressed up as Mrs. Nesbitt and he's fine.  And then he finally calmed down.  Isn't that adorable?"

"It sure is," I agreed.  "We certainly seem to have an empathetic young son on our hands.  Those folks at Pixar must really know what they're doing."

"Yeah.  Well, I just wanted to tell you about that.  See you when you get home."

I don't know that I really had a point here other than perhaps to demonstrate with an example that now, with a very young family, I won't ever be able to take myself terribly seriously at work.  When a cartoon character can move my son to tears, and I am held rapt by my wife's description of the event, my perspective gets a little skewed and I don't think there's any going back.

Comments

[elizabeth]

Just this morning (at an ungodly hour, I might add) Logan was sitting on the floor playing with Mr. Potato(e) Head. All of a sudden he says, hands out, fingers splayed, elbow slightly bent, gesturing for emphasis....

"Oo ah uh TOY!"

We watch too much t.v., but can there be such a thing as too much Toy Story?
(I started to type "too much Woody", but then I couldn't stop snickering - *is twelve*)