We'd seen The Super Mario Galaxy Movie probably less that ten days prior so it was still fresh on his mind -- and by "fresh on his mind" I mean the only possible topic of conversation that he was able to offer, and if someone wasn't able to adequately reciprocate, he'd simply monologue his thoughts and feelings. Actually, that pattern of discourse hasn't really let up since then (or since he could speak really) but the subject matter can veer off into other areas intrigue, like Five Nights at Freddy's, SpongeBob Squarepants, Minecraft, and also non Pop Culture items like Astronomy, Geology, and Meteorology. And when he's run out of things to say and facts to share, he'll write Short Story Fiction, broken into chapters, incorporating elements from all these properties into a decidedly-fashionable multiverse of characters and themes.
I understand this level of mania only too well - waking up in the morning as my dreams transition into thoughts of specific video games or cartoon characters or toys or other acts of play, and those things dominating my train of thought as the serious matters that they are. (Summers were best, when there was no other business to distract me from this very important work.) To witness someone (especially of my own heritage) experience and harness and profess this casual joy of living is endlessly wonderful and fun, and sometimes generates a brief whiff of jealousy. See, I haven't fallen into a profound obsession over any form of Art or Entertainment in a long time - probably over 20 years / since early adulthood. Does the weight of the world simply make it too difficult to lose ourselves in the music anymore? Or did I reach a certain age where I'd simply already discovered every single thing that could possibly interest me? Frankly I refuse to believe that either of those are true - mostly because I'm constantly reminded of how wonderful it can be to be in that frame of mind, and I need to believe I can get back there.
Maybe this is just the dilemma of Millennial Nostalgia - we can't get into anything new because there isn't anything new; I don't need to discover Batman or Ghostbusters or Super Mario or Jurassic Park because I did that already during an entirely different cultural era. But that's partly why having a child during this current period of time is only that much more fantastical: I can expose him to something like STAR WARS or Indiana Jones or Alien, and there's nothing outdated about any of it because we can turn on the TV or go "The Movies" and pick up right where the story left off.
It's important to note that not only have I not pushed any of my interests on him, but there's also a clear division in the properties that we follow. As I sit beside him in the theater as we watch The SpongeBob Movie: The Search For Squarepants or Five Nights at Freddy's 2, I'm reminded of sitting next to my own father as I subjected him to the likes of 3 Ninjas and Stay Tuned as he happily obliged. (We also saw Last of the Mohicans and Dracula that same year but I'm not trying to call attention to the dip in quality over the decades.) I'm watching these movies that I would've otherwise gone the rest of my life without seeing, but I'm doing it through this sorta distorted lens where I'm watching them through his eyes and making sure they hit all the marks that he's looking for; without any effort whatsoever, my normal pretentious film critic filter is almost entirely deactivated, which still allows me to be opinionated but in different ways.
What's all this gripe I keep hearing about "Fan Service"? The first time I heard that phrase as a negative (or in any context at all) was in reference to Rogue One (which at that time was only the fifth STAR WARS movie to be largely predicated upon nostalgia); ironically enough that's one of the few movies where I felt the winks and nods were integrated into the story most organically. But my dispute here isn't necessarily in defense of Fan Service, but that it seems like a completely benign insult; as I write this on the brink of new Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings material being thrusted upon us, I've only ever been under the impression that the mere existence of any and all of these microwaved Intellectual Properties are, by definition, "Fan Service". I mean, of course every moment in all these remakes and sequels is esoteric and referential - it's their world, and we're paying to live in it. While watching these Super Mario movies I wasn't too preoccupied or even aware of stuff like pacing and structure and character development -- One, because they actually handle those things pretty okay, and Two because they don't seem to be that big of a concern to Elvis; as long as familiar characters and locations and sounds and objects keep appearing on the screen...? Pure Cinema.
Conversely, there are plenty of childlike institutions that I still actively enjoy that he just can't seem to get into wholeheartedly. Every day after school he does his homework while my attention is split between helping him with Reading Comprehension and watching the 1987 Ninja Turtles cartoon. It's sorta become a running joke now, how Papa's "favorite show" is Ninja Turtles and how it's the only thing I'm interested in. I've only ever been able to compound these accusations by dragging him to see the original 1990 movie (as well as Secret of the Ooze) in the theater during their respective 35th anniversaries. Again, not forcing anything on him, I know he like Michelangelo - he's said as much, and I spotted an expression of mild glee on his face anytime Mikey did some of his antics. And I know he digs Super Shredder because how could anyone not? But in his mind the Turtles clearly belong to me; for my last birthday I asked him to draw me a picture that I could get tattooed on myself, and so now I have this...
His birthday will forever correspond with the end of the school year / beginning of Summer, so that also means it'll usually be at the same time as the release of some big movie. Despite the fact that they release these kindsa movies all year long now, they still find worthy titles for the season's kickoff. In 2025 we went to see Elio, and as much as we enjoyed it in the moment, it left no lasting impression on us whatsoever. A real shame - Pixar is typically top quality, and it's always refreshing to fall for a largely original movie, but in this framework, if you can't get any good toys or Halloween costumes out of it then something's missing. So this year is the big swing of Toy Story 5, sure to stimulate the nostalgia bone of children and grownups alike, as well as fuel the fire for the cynics who feel they shouldn't be making any more of these. At any rate, the timing guarantees a core memory in the making. Actually, he was very apprehensive at first - his Second Grade classmates have already christened Toy Story as "baby stuff". Fair enough - I was 12 when Part One came out and so I certainly waited for the privacy of Home Video. But I explained to him how much I loved it when I was practically a teenager and so it's definitely okay for big kids too. (I could've explained how I love it even as a grownup, but my credibility as a mature adult is obviously already blurred in his eyes.)
I'm not particularly sentimental about him "growing up so fast", mostly because we're sorta in the midst of what I consider to be the best years. I've wanted a child of my own ever since I was a child, and that's partly because I just wanted someone likeminded to hang out with, and I'd say he's just about reached the age where we can sort of causally enjoy the same things together without either of us having to pander to the other. There's still a noticeable gulf there: I'm able to genuinely appreciate some of his pursuits simply because of his infectious enthusiasm, while he still struggles to simply feign interest in some of my hobbies -- like watching feature length films. That's why it was a surprise that he holds The Movie Theater in such high regard; I don't know if it's his attention span or it's a generational thing, but my kid - my kid - is only partially interested in The Art of Motion Pictures. If the title and subject is rooted in a brand name that's familiar to him (cartoons, video games, sequels, etc.) then he'll perhaps allow his eyes to glance at the screen to then maybe determine its worth. But with everything else I'm like a hungry screenwriter tryna sell him on the most exciting elements of every movie. "It's got a guy who kills women so he can steal their skin and wear it over his own! And there's another guy who's so dangerous that they keep him in a glass box because he eats people!" That gets some mild interest, but I know in my sad heart that it'd just be way too talky/cerebral for him to sit through. Having said that, it's become apparent that Horror is the key to (moderate) captivation, even more than Action Adventure or Comedy. (He was barely able to watch the last half of American Werewolf in London because he was too busy "transforming into a werewolf" himself.) Even just the scarier/gorier moments from the Predator and Terminator movies got a ton of attention and praise, while the explosions and shootouts and chases did little to delight him.
Morbid fascination, or a distaste for the tedium of Big Budget Blow-em-ups? Who knows? Who cares? If he's anything like I was it's probably a little of both. The biggest difference is that, unlike my own parents, I'm not constantly reinforcing the idea that all scary movies are "really fucking scary, so close your eyes here because you will be scared." Granted, refraining from that kinda rhetoric removes just about all the mystique surrounding this material that kept me so turned on throughout my youth, but I'm also here to guide him through the aisles of muck and blandness and make sure to show him what I consider to be the best. If he wants to branch out into the schlock he can spend his prepubescence flipping through stacks of Fangorias same as I did. In the meantime, he's given his most positive responses to The Thing, The Blob, Halloween IV, Weapons, Primate, the entirety of the Child's Play franchise (with heavy emphasis on Seed of Chucky), and oddly enough, Misery, which prompted him to spend the remainder of the day telling everyone "I'm your Number One Fan".
I'm making it all seem grander than it really is -- with the exception of Chucky (and maybe Weapons), his mindset is entirely focused on his very "Second Grader in 2026" goods and services; unique to the setting, but also unique to him. He spends hours at a time playing LEGO STAR WARS on his touchscreen tablet. He dances to AC/DC and INXS on his Amazon Alexa. Over the past few months he's drifted away from the "bedtime story" routine, and now the last moments of the day are dedicated to watching YouTube videos - either about storm chasers, or comparing the sizes of stars in the observable universe. Even through the filter of the 21st Century it's all completely relatable, because while none of us are exactly the same as our kids, we were once, in fact, kids. He likes waterslides and hide 'n seek and chocolate bars and bubblegum. He likes nature and science and stuffed animals and being tickled. He hates long car rides and eating dinner and brushing his teeth and going to sleep. He's frightened of bees and bullies and nightmares and bellyaches. As we grow up we tend to quiet some of these stronger feelings -- but in favor of what? I ask that rhetorically but I don't actually know the answer; we're desensitized with experience, but I suppose a generalized apathy is also a defense mechanism against the shit we deal with in the grownup world. But whatever, this isn't about the ugliness of adulthood, nor is it about me pining for my own past - mostly because I don't really need to anymore (or as much anyway).
I wouldn't say I live "vicariously" through Elvis's optimism and curiosity and overall lust for life, I'm just happy to be around it and I'll do anything I can to perpetuate it; it's infectious and I selfishly don't ever wanna poison the well. The old concept of "providing a better upbringing for your child than the one you received" is a tall order for me because my childhood home life was top-notch, so now whenever the circumstances fall short it's that much more devastating to me. But Elvis doesn't know that because he has nothing to compare it to; objectively his life has been one unbroken boulevard of green lights, so in some ways, he's actually had it better than me - thusly making him a better person. He's more outgoing than I was, more generous, more inquisitive, and especially way better looking (even if he does look exactly like SpongeBob). I won't attempt to call out any of the shortcomings of my own parents and just say that I've utilized and bestowed their best traits throughout this chapter of my life that is "parenting", which basically just boils down to a loving and safe environment. I had that. I did not have the ability to watch any episode of my favorite show at any time of the day or night. I did not have four video game devices with an extensive library of games for each. I did not have framed posters on my bedroom wall. I did not have my own YouTube channel. (Make sure to visit it and "like" and "subscribe", it's a huge deal to him when that happens.) Again, that's still not me being envious; I'll take VHS quality gold over 4K streaming manure any day. But with technology, same as trends and culture and history and the color of the sky and the taste of a soft drink and the smell of a rainstorm and the excitement of a carnival, it all feels new to me - and it's amazing, because Elvis told me it was.
- Paul
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