The Sign

A few thoughts on Bluey's emotional 28-minute episode, and what it was like watching (and crying) as a family.

“Can we finally watch it?” 

After a day of uttering “yes, later” every few hours, last night our entire family sat down to watch can only be described as an Avengers: Endgame level moment of anticipation and hype for children of a certain age: The Sign, a new 28-minute episode of Bluey that promised to be an emotional rollercoaster for the characters in the show and the people watching at home. Were we about to watch a secret series finale?

Bluey is hugely important in our house. The ongoing animated series about a family of Australian heeler dogs is a constant fixture on our television, our tablets, and at times, our Switches. It’s been a vehicle to have thoughtful conversations with our children about play, independence, frustration, sadness, and more. A show for children, yes, but there’s plenty for adults, especially parents and caregivers, to get out of Bluey.

There is less care, sadly, given to the various brand extensions of Bluey, like the disappointing game. Here’s what I wrote about Bluey: The Video Game:

“Fundamentally, the game doesn’t trust the player, which feels antithetical to the show. Every task is highlighted with a glowing icon, and there’s never any mystery about what to do next. As a parent with a profound respect for Bluey, it felt a little insulting.”

It’s important, however, to include the next line: “My kids had a fantastic time. They laughed, screamed, and giggled for nearly two hours.” Maybe the next game’s better?

The show, on the other hand, remains remarkable.

The 28-minute point is important because a traditional Bluey episode is less than 10 minutes long. The show packs so much into those minutes, and it makes Bluey a useful show to say “yes” to, because you’re not committing to something long, but the child still feels like they’re getting a treat. Everyone wins! Every episode feels like a one off, but in ways big and small, it is moving a larger narrative forward, and The Sign is the biggest example yet, because at the end of the previous episode, there’s an actual “oh shit” moment by children's entertainment standards, as in the final moments, the camera cuts back to reveal a “for sale” sign in front of the iconic Bluey home.

I will admit to a mildly embarrassing gasp when the reveal happened.

Some of the biggest moments in Bluey have nothing to do with traditional “plot.” One of the biggest swings is when the youngest, Bingo, sleeps all night in her own bed the first time in Sleepytime, a creative high point for the show that heartbreakingly depicts what it means to take on responsibility and bravery at very young ages. 

What I appreciate about Bluey is its ability to depict such abstract ideas and emotions.

Time itself is an abstract and confusing concept to children for a long time. The reason we didn’t tell our children about this spring’s trip to Disneyland was because our youngest would not have been able to handle the anticipation. It would’ve proved disruptive to the entire family, because she would have fixated on it for months. (This decision was given additional merit the night before my wife went out of town ahead of the trip, and I revealed to my youngest we would join her in California a week later. “Tomorrow?” she asked. “No, in a few nights,” I said. “Tomorrow?” she asked again. “No, you have to sleep a few times,” I responded. And then she had a tantrum.)

My oldest has been granted permission to “real” YouTube in short bursts, and while I should have anticipated this in advance, one of the unexpected knockoff effects of letting her into that world was exposure to online theorizing for the first time.

For the past few weeks, when screen time was up, my wife and I would often be flooded with observations and speculation from my oldest about what was happening in the show, and what we could expect from The Sign. She also knew exactly when the episode was coming out, what it was about, and wanted to make preparations for watching it. My children exist in a time of on-demand entertainment, where any moment of boredom can be countered with access to a near unlimited supply of distractions. It’s a different world, and it made me wonder when, or even if, she would eventually fixate on a piece of media long enough to grow real anticipation.

This past weekend was unseasonably warm for April, the kind of summer-esque tease the Midwest loves to grant its citizens before draping them with a light snow the week after you’ve taken out the sandals from the closet. But it meant we emphasized being outside more than usual, and promised we’d watch The Sign when the sun was going down, the entire family was on the couch, and we’d treat it like a big event.

But I did have one worry.

After my dad passed, a switch flipped in my brain and now I cry easily. And while I would have no problem crying in front of my children if the moment demanded it, it dawned upon me that it hadn’t happened before? So when I jokingly asked on social media if I should expect to be upset while watching The Sign, I gave my wife a heads up that we might be in for a rough one with the children and ourselves.

We also gave them a heads up.

I can’t imagine the warning landed with my youngest, but I told my oldest that selling the house was probably going to be sad, and it’s okay if you feel sad, too. Which is why it was no great shock, then, when The Big Moment occurs towards the end of the episode, and it was like watching dominoes topple. The family is pulling away from the house, and I’m trying to keep it together not out of any desire to maintain a faux sense of masculinity, but because I’m worried it’s going to burst a dam with everyone else! Naturally, my oldest lost it first, which then caused my youngest to lose it, too, and pretty soon, the whole family is wondering whether we should pause the episode.

The emotional reaction was so profound, in fact, that it took a while to explain to everyone that The Sign was pulling a fast one, and as it turns out, they were not selling the house. In a show that usually sticks with its consequences and rarely frames its cartoon life as frictionless, it felt a little indulgent by Bluey standards.

But I’m also thankful the pain was lifted, both for them and for us.

Kids cry, but often as a response to frustration. It’s rarer, especially so young, to experience that in response to storytelling. I’m thankful Bluey let us go on that journey, but I’m hoping my children do not want to watch The Sign anytime soon.

I need a minute, man.

Have a story idea? Want to share a tip? Got a funny parenting story? Drop Patrick an email.

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Also:

• Naturally, my youngest wanted to rewatch The Sign when she woke up this morning. I missed this, but apparently this caused tears all over again for her.

• I can’t remember the first time I cried while watching a movie or TV show, but I most closely associated such reactions to various moments in LOST lol.

• At my other job, Remap, we re-watched The Arrival for a movie podcast, and holy hell, it tore me apart. I remembered it had sad kid stuff in it, but not that much.