Ahem. The short story is this: Up is a moving, fantastic movie that may have scarred my baby for all time.
If I can relate it to my own experience for a minute, we got as far into Up as I did with The Ring. A horror movie. A horror movie so... horrifying after 15 minutes that I not only slept with the lights on, I moved my television and my upstairs home phone to the bottom of the stairs of my parents house. I made our elderly family dog, Cory (aww, good ole Cory!) sleep ON the bed with me. And I played The Jackson 5 softly on repeat, just to keep things lively.
Halle is sleeping in the other room right now, I hope. She became hysterical after Brad and I enthusiastically pointed out the BALLOONS! Look, they're making him FLY! At first, she got a little tense. Then she whined. Then she looked back at us with a look that can only mean AND YOU'RE OKAY WITH THIS?!
We paused it. I tried to console her and figure out what exactly struck her with fear. Was it too many balloons? She hesitated.... Is it scary because the balloons made his house fly away? "YEAH...." The idea that something she loves so, so dearly had caused something (she interpreted as) horribly wrong was a deep thought for us to observe in her. Those colorful balloons have been nothing but helium friends, lining the grocery store and brightening her day like carats at Tiffany to a trophy wife.
Is that Elmo or is that an angry tornado of vienna sausages?
Toddlers are so innocent... 'cause all I see in this picture is:
Om nom nom!