Buckle Up: We Need To Talk About That Bluey Episode

Between Bluey, a fourth birthday, and TTPD, I'm in my feels this week, 'mkay?

Photo by Tyler Nix on Unsplash

“Hey, mama, can you sing ‘Oh dahlin don’t you never gwoh up?’”

“Sure, baby.” I choked a little because it was his last night as a three-year-old.

I cradled him all melty warm against my chest, kissed his nose, sang Taylor’s lyrics, and tried not to cry. Tried to memorize his changing face and the dimples in his hands and the way his lanky toddler legs spilled out of my lap.

Tried not to let my heart explode up my throat.

My five-year-old watched thoughtfully. “But Mom, why do you sing that to us? We’re already growing up.”

“I know, sweetheart. And I’m happy you’re growing up. I love seeing everything you’ve learned to do, like riding your bike without training wheels.”

“So why did you say, ‘Stay this little?’ I’m not little.”

“It’s just a song, baby.” My brain scrambled to explain it and my voice snagged on the ache in my throat. “That’s the funny thing about mommies and daddies. We’re so happy that you’re growing up but we’ll always be a teeny tiny bit sad too. It’s weird but it’s a good thing, I promise.”

“Is that why you’re crying?” The corner of his mouth curved in a shy grin.

“Yes. Sometimes we cry tears that are really-happy-but-a-little-sad. It’s two feelings at once. I’m so excited to see you grow up. I’m proud of you and I love you.” Maybe that wasn’t the best way to explain it, I thought. But then how do I even make sense of it to myself? The ache of time passing and the delight of THIS? This sweet moment before they sleep when I can still solve all their problems?

His eyes were big and bright. “I love you too.”

They’re in their “sleepover” phase (insisting on one bed, two pillows squished together) so I kissed both foreheads and watched long lashes lower over coffee-brown and caramel-brown eyes.

Being a parent makes me more cognizant of the passing of time than I ever would be otherwise.

Which leads us to Bluey.

If you’re on the internet or have small children in your life, chances are, you’re acquainted with Bluey. Last summer we were sitting around a living room with our friends and someone mentioned a trip to Brisbane, where Bluey is set. Without missing a beat, at least three dads in the room replied, “For real life?” in Bluey’s accent.

This week, I talked to my friends about why we love Bluey more than any other kid’s show. Sure, our kids love it, but why do we adults love it so much? Addie said that to her, it captures the preciousness of being a parent.

The show is endearing, funny, nostalgic and/or healing all at once. The writers peg those moments of parenthood that force you to take a breath—and then show you how precious these days are.

As parents, we feel seen when the juice inevitably spills in the car and Chili’s butt is inevitably sticking out the door as she leans over the seat to clean it up. (Parenting is pure glam, of course.) We also feel seen when, in true six-year-old fashion, Bluey goes from saying “This is the WORST day of my life,” to “This is the BEST day of my life!” in about thirty seconds flat. (Ah, the whiplash of tiny big emotions.)

Bluey does what all good art does—first, it hits a bullseye that resonates with the parenthood journey or our inner child (usually both). Then it surprises us with the detail, humor, and cleverness with which it overturns jaded narratives and reframes the familiar in delightful ways.

I’ve cried plenty of times at Bluey, but one of my favorite episodes is “Sleepytime”. It doesn’t matter if I’m at the stove stirring mac and cheese: when Chili tells her youngest daughter Bingo, “Remember I’ll always be here for you, even if you can’t see me, because I love you,” combined with that stunning Holst soundtrack, I’m going to tear up every time.

I believe the power of Bluey is that it gets straight to the beating heart of what matters.

It points a whimsical finger at the important stuff and says, “This. This right here. See it? It’s extraordinary. Don’t miss it.”

Spoilers ahead if you haven’t seen the giant Bluey episode, “The Sign”.

Some people are hung up on the believability of the 28-minute episode’s ending. “Who decides to just….NOT MOVE?” they gasp. “How is that practical? What about the new job? This gives kids unrealistic expectations about happy endings!!” (Actual comments I read.)

The irony of getting stuck on technicalities in an animated show about dogs amuses me. We’re already choosing a certain suspension of disbelief to be emotionally invested in walking, talking dogs that drive cars and own homes.

I have sympathy for these perspectives, I do. Most of my tears during this episode were because of a particular “For Sale” sign representing a lot of brokenness in my past. It cut like a knife to watch Bluey and Bingo sit sadly in the shadow of the sign because I know the helplessness of wishing things could be different.

Honestly, I think that’s why Calypso’s story about the Chinese farmer is a vital through-line for the episode, and perhaps the answer for those who know their ending is a bit different than the Heeler family’s.

“Why do stories always have happy endings?” Bluey asks her teacher.

“Cause life will give us enough sad ones,” answers Calypso. “Listen to this story and see what you think of the ending.”

As she reads about the farmer who simply answers “We’ll see,” to events that his neighbors deem good luck or bad luck, the story ends rather abruptly.

“Is that a happy ending or a sad ending?” Bluey asks.

“It’s both,” Calypso affirms. “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to, Bluey.”

So do I wonder if these viewers missed the point? You bet I do.

What if THE POINT was never about moving? Let’s face it, only internet rumors said the episode was about moving. The writers ambiguously named it “The Sign” for a reason and even that has a double meaning.

I believe the point of the episode was to ask a gentle question about what makes a good life.

Bandit thought that moving for a job with more money would allow him to love Chili, Bluey, and Bingo by providing “a better life” for them. He was afraid he wasn’t giving his children enough and that more money was the only way to give them a good life.

But if you watched any of the three seasons, you know the Heeler family has so much love in their beautiful, full lives in Brisbane. They already have everything they need. Frankly, that message is needed in today’s lonely, materialistic culture both in Australia and America.

And that's where this gets exciting.

Meg Washington voices Calypso, the teacher who discusses happy and sad endings at the beginning of the episode. It’s a full circle moment for Meg to come back as the writer and vocal artist of the ending song. In her lyrics that describe the power of being seen and chosen, rising out of darkness toward a love as strong as a reviving drug, I think we adults find the clue to what “The Sign” is about.

As Bandit faces his fears of not being enough and pulls the sign out of the ground, he makes a choice—he chooses Chili’s heart and his girls and the vibrant, backyard-wedding-full-of-extended-family life they already have.

Maybe the most important things were right in front of us all along, and maybe they’re simpler than we dare to think. Maybe when it all boils down, our loved ones just need us. They need to be chosen, and seen, and cherished. When we choose the people who matter most, that’s what makes a good life.

Time is the only thing we can’t get more of. And as I watch my three-year-old turn four and listen to a tortured poet sing “Robin”, a song about innocence and the desire to stop time with “strings tied to levers, slowed-down clocks tethered,” I think I understand.

Because our time is so short, choosing to see each other’s hearts and go all in with our love and our presence is the pith of it, after all.

Maybe when we’re faced with the fleeting nature of time, we can lean into the immortal souls we share it with and the love we find in a God who transcends time. He gives us His Presence, in our happy endings and sad ones. One day, we’ll see.

And maybe, just maybe, we’ll find what matters right in front of us—amid our morning coffees, the oranges we peel, and our nightly routines.

But what do I know? I’m just a mom who watches Bluey. *wink*