I’ve always been a fan of my generation’s Disney movies. Aladdin, Cinderella, The Jungle Book, The Little Mermaid…they are all great. When I was six and my sister was nine, my dad did a ridiculously cute thing and took the both of us to see The Little Mermaid in theaters. I can just picture a 29-year old man toting two bouncy girls going to see a Disney movie. Cringingly adorable.
Anyway, we have always, in good nature, made fun of my dad for crying at the end. But on my way home from work today, I starting thinking about it. I mean: this king raises a sassy rebellious girl who gets in a boatload of trouble and needs a bunch of friends to help her figure out her life. In the end, she runs off with a strange man, and the king has to say goodbye to his baby girl.
And as they hug, she whispers:
“I love you, daddy.”
And although I used to make fun of my dad, now I tear up just thinking about it. BAH, what has becoming a parent done to me?!