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Watching ‘Big’ with My 6-Year-Old: A Journey Through Time
One afternoon, I drove home from the bookstore, excitement bubbling as I clutched a brand new copy of “Misty of Chincoteague,” a timeless tale by Marguerite Henry about two kids enchanted by a wild pony. I lovingly inscribed it for my daughter, just like my mom did for me ages ago. We snuggled up in bed to read, but just three pages in, she began asking if people ever used noodles to floss their teeth. I shushed her, hoping the story would capture her interest soon, but then I noticed her mischievous hands inching toward the book’s cover—was that a booger I just saw?
Night after night, the allure of Misty faded for her—unless you count her newfound ability to doze off the moment we opened the book. I had to come to terms with the fact that my daughter wasn’t going to suddenly develop a passion for plastic horse collections or galloping around the yard on an imaginary Misty. The book? It mysteriously vanished to the depths of her laundry basket while we were only two-thirds through its rather lackluster plot.
My husband faced a similar heartbreak when we introduced our daughter to the original Muppets movie. She found them dull and uninteresting, which left us wondering if her taste buds were somehow broken. There were minor letdowns—how could anyone not enjoy Nerds candy?—and major ones. When E.T. was on screen, she simply didn’t care whether he made it home.
In these moments of disappointment, it’s easy to blame her friends or the fact that she watches too much of that Jessie show on Nick Jr. There’s a phase of denial where you think maybe she missed the magic at age five, but surely, by six, she’d be ready to embrace it all. You might even try bargaining—“How about ice cream for your attention?” But then you reach a point of acceptance that maybe you, the parent, are being a bit too needy. It’s daunting to share something you love, especially from your childhood, with someone you cherish. If they don’t enjoy it, it feels like a personal slight, which is completely unfair but undeniably human.
Yet, you persist because sometimes, you just can’t bear another episode of SpongeBob. Recently, I decided to introduce her to the 1988 classic “Big.” I tried to keep my excitement in check, not wanting to overhype it. When she sat there completely expressionless during the silly string scene, I kept my cool.
As we lounged on our blanket bed, I realized what I truly hoped for: I wanted her to savor her childhood, to resist the urge to rush through it, and to embrace new stories with unfiltered enthusiasm. There’s a special way kids appreciate things—with a pure, uncomplicated love.
When the movie wrapped up and a reflective Tom Hanks expressed his desire to hold on to childhood, my daughter turned to me and exclaimed, “That was the best movie ever!” I played it cool, responding, “Really? I think it’s great too.”
In the end, those moments spent together watching films from my youth remind me of the beauty in slowing down and cherishing time with our little ones. If you’re interested in more about home insemination methods, check out this resource on intracervical insemination. And if you’re looking to boost your fertility, Make a Mom has some great advice. For a deeper dive into fertility topics, Science Daily is an excellent resource.
Summary
In sharing cherished childhood stories and films with our children, we navigate the bittersweet moments of their preferences versus our nostalgia. It’s a journey of acceptance, laughter, and the joy of seeing them find their own interests, ultimately reminding us to savor the fleeting moments of their youth.