Finally saw Toy Story 3 tonight. And, despite the technical glitches, I teared up.

It's hard not to.

I suppose every other kid has had a similar childhood as Andy, growing up with loads of toys, and, upon leaving home for the first time, having to be forced to decide between keeping, tossing or simply storing the toys some place safe. I'm far too old for toys - even if there are several sitting here on my television set even as I type - but it would break my heart to throw any of my old ones away, even if they're not being played with anymore.

Of course, there's a deeper meaning to the show. There comes a time when all of us grow up and have to move on, to let go of things long cherished in order to allow those things to be better utilised and cared for by the younger generation. That's growing up for you. And we undergo this process many times in our lives: when we get promoted and have to leave a favourite task behind, when we have to let go of old friends and move on to new ones, when we have to let go of old memories in order to make room for new experiences, when we have to move on from old loves and open our hearts for that elusive one out there, and so on.

I love all Pixar films, so it should come as no surprise that I loved this show too. Perhaps if I had been watching it with someone else, this show would have surpassed Up in terms of its emotional impact on me. In fact, now that I look back on it, Toy Story 3 should have, because the themes in Toy Story 3 are ones which resonate much more with me, even though I am far from being the age that looks forward to change. But, it didn't, in part due to the technical glitches and the fact that there was an intermission in the movie (no, I don't begrudge the bar as they've got to make money some for), and, perhaps, in part, because I was watching it with the guy who's become my movie-going kaki, the one whom I really should not be spending any more time with.

And with whom I'll be spending at least one more film with because, thanks to those glitches, the bar gave us a free ticket to another show, and I know there'll definitely be shows that both of us will want to check out.

In spite of that, at the end, I surreptitiously wiped the tears from my eyes, played with my hand to hide my face for a little longer, put on my jacket and we made our way to pay the bill.

And, as I stood by myself at the bus stop watching him leave, I felt the tears return, just for a short while. It's only because my eyes were incredibly tired and dry, honest.