Toddler 1 is particularly tender-hearted when it comes to stories and movies. I first noticed this when I was reading The Little Engine That Could to her last winter. I had no idea that she would be so moved by the story of a heroic little train and the toys it helped. I was reading along at bedtime not noticing her intense involvement, and when we got to the scene where the clown and all the toys are sad because none of the big trains will help them over the mountain to take the gifts to the children, she was sobbing. It was then that I realized that she wasn’t merely listening to the story. She was participating in the story. She might as well have been one of the toy dolls stranded at the bottom of the mountain.
I, of course, was tempted to shelve that particular book for a few years until we could read it through without being so moved, but that was not to be. She wanted to read it several more times over the next few weeks. And, each time she would tell me she wasn’t going to cry. But, each time, she did. I’d read on to the end, though, and the story–and our evening–would be redeemed.
This summer when we went to see Toy Story 3, our first time taking her to a movie in a theatre, I wasn’t prepared for her reaction to the “scary” scenes. And, you must understand, she has a very broad definition of scary. If you’ve seen it… our trouble started with the spooky little monkey at the daycare and only got worse from there. By the time the toys were headed for the fiery incinerator, we were in full-blown hysterics. BUT, we couldn’t make a quick exit out of the theatre. No, no, no. She always insists on finishing the story. And, so we did. But, I can assure you, Toy Story 3 toys are not on her Christmas list. The memory of her first outing to a “real” movie is not as glamorous as I had imagined.
Just last week we popped 101 Dalmations into the car DVD player thinking that would make for a peaceful drive to the other side of town. After all, it’s a movie about sweet little puppies. But, about 15 minutes in we hear sniffles, and I turned around to see Toddler 1’s eyes welled up with tears as she became (understandably) very emotional about Cruella Deville. Granted, Cruella is pretty evil. And, her mistreatment of animals is shameful. BUT, I thought we were safe because we were in the “classic Disney cartoon” genre. Wrong again. (As a side note, Toddler 2 was completely unaware and unaffected by the antics of Cruella. Apparently her paci continues to be a great source of both comfort and security).
So, all of this brings us to last night, when I thought she would enjoy watching an old Christmas cartoon about an elf who goes looking for his family at Christmas. As most movies do, the story builds to a dramatic point late in the movie at which point the elf is feeling very lonely and unloved. And, it was at this crescendo where Toddler 1 lost it. Once again, she had mentally entered into the story, and in this moment she was the sad little elf. Of course, the movie resolves in classic fairy-tale style with a very happy, heart-warming ending, but it was all a little too much for her to take in. In fact, it took quite a bit of consoling at the end of the movie for her to dry up and cheer up. Who knew a fictional story with animated elves could be so traumatic? Once again, I failed to anticipate this.
Though this strong sensitivity to all things mean, scary, sad, or evil is putting some serious limitations on our viewing options, I’m really kind of glad for it. I, by nature, am not near so compassionate… empathetic… tender-hearted. She gets that from her Daddy, and I could use a dose of it. I have never been one to cry at just anything, but God forbid I ever become one who is not moved by anything that doesn’t affect me personally. I especially long for that keen sensitivity during this Christmas season–a time that can be happy for so many and yet so sad for others.
And, that’s my hope for what I might learn from Toddler 1 and her tender spirit. I pray for eyes that see, ears that hear, and a heart that is affected by the needs around me. I want to be moved to action, if not tears, when I see loneliness, fear, hurt, need, or injustice. It starts with noticing, and I’m afraid my adult self has become cynical or just plain numb to far too much.
I do hope that we can one day make it through an animated holiday feature-length film without a box of Kleenex and several pep talks. But, for now, I’m going to savor the sweet tears of innocence and be glad for the reminder they are to check my own response. Open the eyes of my heart, Lord.
What a sweetheart! I LOVE that she is so moved by all these things, but especially by the book. I wish you could teach kids how to put themselves in the book like that…I think it would my my job so easy. SO many kids would actually want to read. She is going to do great things with a big ol heart like that:)
Beth, only a librarian could bring this sweet perspective. I've never really thought about how her sensitivity could turn into a love for literature. We'll keep reading with a box of Kleenex beside us! Thanks for sharing 🙂