The first Toy Story landed when I was ten. Since then, I’ve spent countless hours watching and playing with these characters. Now, for the fifth instalment, my own ten-year-old sits beside me.
Without his teenage brother, he is freer – no need to pretend he’s older than he is. Perhaps for the last time, he pushes up the cinema armrest to make us a sofa, rests his head on my shoulder (ducking behind it during a kissing scene), and we laugh, watch and whisper – side by side, caught up in the story.
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