Parent Trap

The Parent Trap

Are you party to the Disney phenomenon? Do you find yourself quoting
lines, ad nauseam, from Toy Story? Do you sing Woody's Roundup in the
shower?

If you can answer yes to any of the above, then you, like me, have
succumbed to the one thing you vowed, pre-children, which you would
never do. The most unforgivable of all parenting sins: surrendering to
the Disney merchandising juggernaut.

I'm being a bit of a hypocrite, as I actually find the Toy Story and
Toy Story 2 movies to be very clever. I fully appreciate the effort
behind the creation, and I'm sure in animation circles, the films are
works of art. My son, however, is enamoured with the whole Toy Story 1
&; 2 craze, as are his little peers. He has just turned three.

My little boy's older cousins introduced him to the videos for his
birthday last month, and he has since amassed an indecent collection of
paraphernalia to accompany the videos now permanently located either in
or beside the VCR. I have even taught him how to work the VCR and to
tune the TV so that I can feed his little sister in relative peace. We
have each major character as figures, Woody, Buzz Lightyear and Jesse,
in varying sizes. McDonald's, never one to miss a marketing
opportunity, jumped on the bandwagon and 'gave away' figures with their
Happy Meals. Of course, we also have that collection. Not a bad deal
really&;#8230;my son ate about three chips for three tiny Buzz
Lightyear cartoon figurines.
For the last seven weeks, he has woken pre-dawn to ask if we can go to
the Disney store to collect even more characters in varying sizes. As
you can imagine, at 5.35 am, I'm a little reluctant to indulge the
fantasy. Following my growled response to his 'let's go shopping for
Bullseye' mumble, is 'let's see if outside is awake so we can watch and
play Toy Story.' You see I make him at least wait till the sun has
risen before I have to be exposed to warm and fuzzy friendship themes.
As I breast feed and attempt not to spill my cereal, I also pretend I'm
Andy's 'Mom' (the closest I'll ever come to fulfilling the American
1950s dream of 'Perfect Mother'). Each day, I slip into method acting
mode, and get to quip such memorable lines, as 'Toy's don't last
forever, honey'. Yes, I am the bearer of bad news, albeit delivered
sympathetically. Appropriate typecasting, perhaps? I also have to help
position his Woody and Jessie dolls ready for each scene. If you think
I have it bad, each evening, his Dad gets to have two little ones
riding him as pretends to be Bullseye (the likeable, shy, smartin',
trusty steed from 2&;#8230;definitely not appropriate typecasting!).
In fact, we relive most of the characters' adventures on an almost
hourly basis.

One day, I realised I was incorporating the films' lines into daily
conversation with people outside the family. Consequently, I have taken
to bundling my pair in their stroller even when Jack Frost is nipping
at our ears and walking kilometres late each morning to save my sanity.
At least when we're out and about, I only have to make sure the dolls
don't lose their Stetsons. Ironically, my son's desire to become a part
time couch potato has transformed me into a power walker. Should Disney
decide to make more millions and make a third movie, I'll be able to
qualify for the Athens Olympics.

Though I lament the occasional loss of my little boy (replaced by alta
ego Andy) I have no one else to berate but myself. Sure, others may
have awakened him to the magic of Disney, but I have played my part, as
I was surely meant to, in fulfilling a child's dreams. In an effort to
attempt to feel somewhat in control of the situation, I took the
corporate approach, and employ the figures as part of a larger
incentive program. To date, my little awards member has generally
remained on the straight and narrow. I just have to manage the 5.35am
confusion regarding awards claim days.

Ultimately, I guess I am grateful that the films and extras have at
least fuelled my son's imagination. He could have merely slid into an
anaesthetised coma as I relished the tranquillity. I wonder how long I
would have enjoyed the calm before banishing the videos? A bit too
scary a thought&;#8230;.