“I wish I could be Mr. Krueger ‘cause he has a cat.” The four year old offers a new perspective on Mr. Krueger’s Christmas.
Every year, I think it will finally be the year I don’t cry when I watch this movie. I think it will be the year that I don’t feel depressed at the end. And every year, I’ve failed. Okay, so I fail at many things, like being 5 foot 9 inches and rumba dancing. But this is a failure that has haunted me. Even knowing that it’s fake, that Jimmy Stewart only pretends to be a rheumy eyed lonely man has not helped.
But this year, even though I still got weepy, the four year old made me smile and that changed the whole movie. Mr. Krueger has a cat. He’s lucky. He has that magical, elusive dream withheld from the four year old because her father is allergic and her mother has no intention of having cat hair all over her counters, anyway. When I told the child that in order to have a cat we’d have to get rid of her dad, she said, “Hmmm,” and thought about the idea. “Dad could live in the basement,” she concluded. Clearly, her parents do not rate very high on her list of important items. We’re background noise at best, candy-and-cat-quelchers at worst.
But I’m okay with that, at least today, because I watched Mr. Krueger’s Christmas without sobbing hysterically all the way through. So it’s a successful year, at least for me. For the four year old, she still needs a cat.