Bluey’s “Sleepytime” Made Me A Better Parent

How Bingo’s journey through the galaxy helped me refocus my fears.

Bluey, the Australian-born critically acclaimed cartoon, has no shortage of episodes that make you look at your parenting style and think, “Am I doing this right?” Takeaway comes to mind. So does The Creek. But when I look at the parent I was before and the dad I became after, Sleepytime is the episode that most changed my perspective on the parent I want to be.

I first saw Sleepytime in the summer of 2020, at the beginning of the pandemic, when our family was still keeping our distance from many people in our lives. I missed the connections with friends and acquaintances alike, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I missed the plans; weekend plans!

We had spent months at home with our then-four and one-year-olds, and silence seemed a little more prevalent in my life than it used to be. It was jarring.

Like many kid-filled homes around the globe, Bluey was a mainstay for ours. Season 2 had just been released on Disney+, so we excitedly snuggled up on the couch on a Saturday morning to watch the new episodes.

When we got to Sleepytime, I was halfway paying attention. All the episodes were cute, each giving me a good laugh, but somewhere between prepping breakfast and scrolling through Instagram, I noticed this episode was quieter than the rest.

“Are we still watching Bluey?” I asked.

I looked up to find the answer was yes.

I saw Bingo floating through space and Bluey sleepwalking through their home, and 7 minutes and 30 seconds later, the sun rose, leading to the credits. As the stars appeared on the screen, I felt a sense of peace that doesn’t often come from a television show. Of course, I had to watch it again.

A few days later, Sleepytime was back on the screen. This time, breakfast was on hold, and the phone was locked away. I didn’t want to miss a second.

I laughed when Bandit dragged Bluey into bed.

I resonated with Chilli telling bedtime stories.

I empathized with a drowsy Bandit sitting beside the toilet (excuse me, dunny), waiting for Bluey to go potty.

As the music became more cinematic, with Gustav Holst’s “Jupiter” playing my heartstrings like his seven-movement orchestra played their violins, I knew in my heart that I was watching an episode of Bluey unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

As the credits rolled, with tears in my eyes, I sniffled and said, “That was beautiful.”

I had just witnessed a masterpiece. The dreamlike sequence, the push and pull between Neptune and Mercury, the absence of words, and the masterful score. A cinematic symphony, a cantata of cartoons. Why was Bluey making me feel this way?!

Over the next few weeks, we watched Sleepytime at least ten times. If the girls asked me a question at any point during the episode, my immediate response was, “Not right now.”

The girls didn’t feel the way I did. They liked it but were more inclined to Bus or Feather Wand. But in a season of intentionality, stillness, and reworking almost everything I knew about life, Sleepytime hit me when I needed it most.

Time flies, but I was basking in its stillness at that moment. The pandemic forced us to take a beat, but during its pause, I blinked and saw my kids older than I remembered. I was wrestling with everything 2020 threw our way, and I did my best to shield these girls of mine from the ugliness that reared its head that year.

But before I know it, there will be a time when people’s disdain for their neighbors will creep into their consciousness, and if they’re anything like me, that apathy in others for the most vulnerable around us will affect them greatly. The world felt dark and lonely, absent of the sunshine we needed.

So when Bingo tells her mom, “I have to go. I’m a big girl now,” and then Chilli responds, “Remember, I’ll always be here for you, even if you can’t see me, because I love you,” a shift happened in my parenting. I was so busy looking for the light that I forgot that to two wonderful little girls, I am the light.

Through its timeless composition and perfect comedy-to-“am I crying?” ratio, Sleepytime helped shift my purpose from a dad who struggles with imposter syndrome to a dad confident in my role within this family.

Since that Saturday morning, I’ve worked with my daughters to approach each moment of the unknown with a more intentional level of care, conscious that they are exploring parts of this universe for the first time, which is natural!

When they encounter rough terrain, it’s not my responsibility to make their fears feel insignificant. A lost fluffy in their world is no less important than job security in mine. Instead, I aim to acknowledge their uncertainty and solidify my love as their foundation, no matter where they go. Kids were meant to explore, and their explorations will lead to great new possibilities. My fears won’t dictate their dreams.

Like the Heelers, our family of four will continue to explore the depths of our galaxy, and when life gets colder than we anticipated, our girls will know where to turn to find warmth. When they need a glimpse of home, I will always be there for them, even when they can’t see me, because I love them.