How Pixar’s Toy Story 5 Helps Us Rethink Digital Safety for Our Kids – WanderWoMom
I think I’ve officially reached a milestone in my life. Somewhere between the release of Toy Story 1 and Toy Story 5, my identity didn’t just evolve, it transformed. I’ve gone from being a 9 year old watching the first film to becoming “the mom.” And while I’ve settled comfortably into that role, watching Toy Story 5 brought all those years of growth, change, and motherhood into sharp, emotional focus.
Let’s start with the movie itself. It is pure, distilled magic. It has that signature Pixar blend of genuine, laugh-out-loud humor and heart-tugging moments that sneak up on you. Seeing that long-awaited, heartfelt hug between Woody and Buzz? I’m not ashamed to say I was a puddle of tears. And when Buzz finally asked Jessie that most important question? I felt those butterflies fluttering in my stomach just as hard as if I were back in my own teenage years.
To top it all off, that Taylor Swift song playing during the end credits is absolutely perfect. It’s been on constant repeat for me—total LSS! I found myself wishing, though, that they had played it right at that moment when Jessie finds the time capsule of Emily (or was it Emily’s daughter?). It would have been the ultimate heart-melter moment, especially when Jessie whispers, ‘All that matters is that we were there at the right time to help her along.’”
The movie hits home because it tackles a truth we all eventually face. Like you and me, KIDS GROW UP. Their phases shift, and their likes, needs, and wants evolve right before our eyes. I’ll be honest, it’s hard. Seeing my 13-year-old, my sweet, growing boy, start to outgrow some of his toys is a quiet kind of heartbreak. You look at those shelves and see the remnants of childhood, and you realize you can’t pause the clock. You just have to appreciate the chapters as they turn.
It forces a realization we often try to push away. Being needed less and being loved less are not the same thing. It’s easy to feel a sting when we are no longer as central to their daily lives as we once were, but I’m learning that this growth isn’t a form of rejection. Families are fluid; they need us in different ways as the seasons of life shift. It’s a gentle, necessary reminder that while our roles inevitably change, the love remains. We aren’t being replaced; we are simply watching the people we care about evolve, and learning how to grow right alongside them. It’s a tough lesson, but one that’s so important to embrace as life moves forward.
Toy Story 5 doesn’t shy away from the reality of our current world, too. Gadgets are everywhere. They are part of the landscape, and we can’t pretend otherwise. While I saw many parents in the theater, I couldn’t help but think about the contrast between Andy’s mom and Bonnie’s mom. I’ve certainly made the transition to being the “Andy’s Mom” in my own life, but I find myself deeply reflecting on Bonnie’s situation.
There’s no judgment here for any mom just trying to survive the digital age. We’re all doing our best. But the film was a reminder that our role is to be intentional. It’s not just about the dangers of tech, it’s about our responsibility to protect our kids from the risks that come with it.
Bonnie’s parents were gentle and loving, but I couldn’t help but realize that, in this digital era, love has to look a little different. It’s no longer just about being present. It’s about being proactive. True parental devotion today means setting up consistent, reliable parental controls and having those sometimes-uncomfortable, honest conversations about internet safety. It means staying vigilant by monitoring devices for red flags like cyberbullying, and having the courage to set firm limits on screen time, even when it’s tempting to let them disappear into a tablet just to buy yourself a few hours of quiet.
What struck me most wasn’t just the movie’s message, but the way it reached my 13-year-old. There were moments when he shifted in his seat—not out of boredom or fear, but because he was having a rare ‘aha’ moment. Pixar managed to pull off a balancing act: they addressed screen-dependency without pointing a finger. Instead of feeling preached at, my son was simply invited to look at his own habits through a new lens. It was a gentle nudge for him, and a powerful reminder for me, that even in our tech-saturated world, the magic of unplugged play is something worth fighting for.
For years, Jessie’s greatest fear was that she had been forgotten, that the love she gave and the memories she shared had faded into nothingness. Isn’t that a fear we all carry? We wonder if we’ve truly made an impact on the people we love. But Toy Story 5 offers the most beautiful reminder: impact isn’t always visible.
People grow up and move into new chapters, but they never truly forget. Just because someone isn’t holding onto you or your toys the way they used to, doesn’t mean they didn’t carry a piece of you with them. That is the legacy we leave behind, and that is what makes this installment so much more than just “a movie about toys.”
Thank you, Pixar, for the laughter, the music, and for reminding us that while it’s hard work to raise children in this digital world, keeping them safe, healthy, and imaginative is the most important job we’ll ever have.
