This Father’s Day arrives with the most wonderful gift: a new “Toy Story” movie.

“Toy Story 5” opened in theaters this weekend, sixteen years after I took my five-year-old son, Joseph, to see “Toy Story 3”. At the time, Joseph loved all things “Toy Story.” He walked in Buzz Lightyear light-up shoes, slept in Woody pajamas beneath Buzz Lightyear sheets, and surrounded himself with Woody, Buzz, Rex, Slinky Dog, Mr. Potato Head, and his soul tater-mate, Mrs. Potato Head. For him, “Toy Story” was a way of life.

For me, Toy Story 3 became something else entirely. While most people saw a movie about Andy growing up and leaving his childhood behind, I found myself watching from the perspective of the toys. I empathized with Woody and Buzz waiting on the shelf, hoping to be noticed, yearning to be played with one more time.

As the movie unfolded, I felt a lump in my throat. Then the floodgates opened. I wept behind my glasses. What kept me from audibly sobbing was that we were at a crowded cineplex and I did not want to bother the people around us. At one point, I wished my 3-D glasses came with windshield wipers.

What moved me was not so much growing up as growing apart.

Just a few days before we saw the third installment in 2010, Joseph altered our school drop-off routine. For years, my wife or I would walk him to school, remove his knapsack, hang up his coat, and receive a hug and a kiss before he entered the classroom.

Then one morning, he ran inside MDS without looking........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)