Okay, so when you are ‘up the duff or ‘baking a bun in the oven or just plain ‘with child’ everybody likes to give you advice. It’s usually horrific advice where men tell tales of sleep deprivation and a loss of reality and women share intimate stories of vaginas and stitches (seriously, why has nobody told these women the phrase snitches get stitches?) because frankly when your bun / duff or child is growing inside you and you’re overwhelmed with hormones,the thought of impending responsibility FOREVER and feel the size of a house – you don’t want to hear any advice or the downsides of your situation, in fact this advice should be placed on the side of condoms packets.
When I joined the world of blogger-sphere I also learnt that every Mummy blogger has at least one blog on ‘new mum advice’ and every Dad has some army survival themed post on adjusting to life after birth or preparing for the big day. Not one to follow in the paths of others, I’ve avoided these posts like my son avoids holding a pen because I know that deep down no new parent really wants to hear what I have to say and frankly they’ll work it out.
If there is one piece of advice that nobody gave me, id want to know the details of what I went through this week because frankly Disney let me down. Regular reader will know that Walt is one of my Best friends and pretty much every Disney film offers me some form of advice in which I apply to my life and impose on you.
Disney is my equivalent to Breakfast TV or the news, Disney is my go to, my google and my fountain of knowledge. Im constantly applying Mermaid philosophies to my studies, letting it go and loving like the beauty I am and the beast that Mr is when he hasn’t shaved (I look past the prickles and try to visualise the man he was before he realised that razors are super expensive and beards are vaguely in fashion).
When raising little dude we have always encouraged Disney and he has a DVD collection to be proud of, his favourites are the Toy Story series and Car’s – our Goldfish are proudly named after key characters; Mater and Lightening McQueen and a relaxing afternoon in our home usually involves a Disney DVD, now here comes my advice to all parents, new, young, old or frankly lacking in Disney knowledge…
If you truly love your child more than life itself NOTHING GOOD CAN COME OF WATCHING BAMBI. (please read this like I’m shouting at you)
Forget ‘breast is best’ advice, what nappy you recommend, please pass this on to all new parents and i’ll tell the tale of the traumatised four year old and the Mum who f*cked up by trusting in a classic.
Firstly, Ive seen it before, I should of known better. When the hunter first tries to kill Bambi’s Mum (it came out in 1942 so I don’t feel like I’m throwing any spoilers into this) I was quick to tell him that Bambi’s Mum had died….only to see B’s Mum bounce off into a field, I was then branded a liar by my small child. Fast forward ten or so minutes and Bambi’s Mum does get shot. At this point my son looked at me, eyes fully dilated and brimming with tears screaming at me to tell him it wasn’t true…I was lost for words.
We then had to pause the DVD whilst I reassured him that his Mummy (yup me) wasn’t going to be shot anytime soon (its not in the insurance policy) and that the hunter lived far away and wouldn’t hurt any of his friends at preschool or our dog, fish, stick insects or African snails.
With the tears under control I pressed play on the remote (we call it a ‘magic’ in our house – because frankly a remote is like voodoo) and then a bush fire consumed the screen, with my son stuck to my face we watched as a racoon build a raft to a small island, we watched carnage run through our happy Disney place and all the while I was thinking what the hell am I doing to him? Seriously, a cute rabbit with a speech impediment and a giant thump doesn’t really make up for the neglect I had subjected him to. Nobody cares about ‘drip drip drop little April showers’ after Bambi is left traumatised in the snow.
The ending is happy, Bambi and his hot Deer Mumma Faline make Bambi twins, but even this confused him and he thought Bambi had been born again. He also asked how they made the baby Deer’s but frankly by this time I was still speechless and distracting him with chocolate bribery to protect his precious mind from the horror that is Disney’s Bambi.
So, don’t believe the certification of U that the film industry gave it, instead warn all parents everywhere, all Grandparents and anyone who is vague human…or perhaps a Deer (they wouldn’t like it either) to NEVER watch it. His Godmother hit it on the head when I was retelling her my traumatic Bambi failure “Actually there isn’t an age where anyone wants to see that, is there?” Nope, there is not wise Godmother that I selected for my precious bundle, nobody ever.
This is all my parental advice from two pregnancies, a four year old and way too many years of teaching teenagers.
Best of luck.