By Amy H.
I sat with tears in my eyes as I watched "The Incredibles on Ice" with my 4-year-old son recently. My sadness was not related to Disney’s moving rendition of “Small World” nor was it a consequence of having paid $10 for cotton candy. My heart caught in my throat as I watched my little guy in a Dash mask, waving goodbye to Mickey from his seat in the 2nd balcony, row 3, 847 where there was no chance of being seen by the costumed performer on skates.
I have read with great interest the posts of other DotMoms who have written about MY future, a time when my child will no longer giggle quite so easily, tell me every silly thought he’s thinking or wave goodbye to a Disney character who never knew he was there. I read these posts with the recognition and horror of Charlton Heston discovering the half-buried Statue of Liberty on the shoreline… you don’t want to admit that this is YOUR future, but there it is…. and it’s being ruled by APES!
I have stated on more than once lately, “I wish I could create a machine that would stop time for Javi and speed it up for his 16-month-old sister, Isa!” I know that this is pure blasphemy among the stay-at-home crowd, as I should be treasuring every moment of every stage because “they will never be this age again.” But quite honestly, I think four is where it’s at.
Javi still thinks out loud, makes believe without self-consciousness and spontaneously says, “I love you, Mom,” but I have started to see signs of things to come. He is starting to censor the things that he tells me. He is starting to worry that peers might judge what he does, and we have had two instances of talking back that sounded an awful lot like some teenagers I know.
So immediately after writing this post, I’m heading down to my basement to get to work on the first ever “Frozen at Four Machine.” I’m not sure that I have all the materials I’ll need to complete it, but I’m certain that cardboard boxes, a glue gun and multicolored pipe cleaners will get me started.
Don’t tell me I’m crazy or a bad mom for wanting such a thing because it’s been decided -- as Diane Court stated in the '80s classic movie, "Say Anything": “I have glimpsed our future. And all I can say is, go back!”
Amy H. is a thirty-something SAHM and part-time psychology professor living in the deep South with her husband and two children.