Does Bluey Emotionally Trigger You, Too?

My Reaction to “The Sign”

Spoiler alert: this article reveals the plot and ending of the recent extended-version episode “The Sign.”

First, let me be clear. I am a fan of the hit Australian show Bluey, as are my spawn. The production has the primetime spot on our television (too) often. Featuring a lovable Blue Heeler female dog named Bluey and her younger sister, Bingo, as well as their parents Bandit and Chilli, it depicts childhood in today’s age with a plethora of challenges, stories, and witty plugs to keep the audience guessing. It is that show that is truly for both children and adults.

The show is chock-full of adorable details including scenes of the backseat covered in crayons and mini gadgets and kid rubbish. There is the image of Bingo being tucked in at night with multiple stuffed animals carefully placed around her. There is the fan favorite episode, “Fairytale” that is set in the ‘80s when Bandit recalls riding bikes without a helmet and meeting the love of his life. There is Bingo on the patio, in her “relaxing chair,” which my little girl had mimicked with her own red plastic lawn chair.

I recently talked amongst friends about the brilliant creativity of the show, the endearment of the characters, the quality of the lesson taught. As we discussed, I found myself voicing, for the first time, perhaps my one quarrel with Bluey. And here it is: the parents are perfectly creative, unrealistically responsive, and perpetually fun. Basically, I was concerned they were doing a way better job than any human ever could and it was setting us parents up for perpetual feelings of failure, which we experience enough without our child’s favorite show cementing it in.

This was met by responses such as “Yes, of course they are better than us. That’s sort of the point” and “I think we are to take it another way to look at interacting with children and having fun with it.” Fair and optimistic points, however aggravating. I was looking for another, slightly roughed-up mom, wearing chipped toenail polish, who’s kid just got busted for an inappropriate gesture made in the school cafeteria, to agree with “Exactly — this is modern day ‘Leave it to Beaver,’ not believable.” No such luck.

Our friend

Kuleigh Baker

here on Substack mentioned a brand new episode, called “The Sign,” in her weekly R.E.P.O.R.T. (one of my favorite follows.) I knew it would be teed up next in our household. Before I had a chance to sit down at a proper time to absorb this episode, I found my five and two year old had put it on as I was fetching a load of laundry from the dryer to actually fold while still warm. Ambitious, I know.

Being privy to the significance of this episode, I requested the kids rewind it to the beginning to ensure I followed the entirety of the story. It begins with Bluey and Bingo learning that they will be moving away from the home, friends, family and town they have known their entire childhoods. Their father Bandit has received another job offer, one with more money and opportunity. Chilli, the girls’ mother, agrees that it may be what’s best for the family, although they are unsure throughout the process.

In the midst of this life change, their family friend Frisky is preparing to marry their father’s older brother. The wedding is to take place at Bluey and Bingo’s home, where a giant “For Sale” sign overshadows the beautiful lawn. The family decides that they will remove the sign for the big day and weekend only. Bluey’s friends inform her what wonderful news this is. In their young minds, if the sign is gone, the house cannot be for sale, and they won’t move! Her excitement at that possibility grows as she remains hopeful there is a small chance they will get to stay with her beloved home and friends. Frisky gets cold feet when she learns that her soon-to-be husband is hoping she will move away with him to chase another job once they say “I do.” She does come to terms with her decision to ultimately marry the man that was planning their future without clueing her in (red flag), and they wed in Bluey’s backyard under the white twinkle lights. During the reception, the groom clinks his glass to make an announcement and Frisky interjects “We are staying here!!” which is met with a collective cheer and Bluey running up to her to embrace in a hug. Now, essentially everyone is staying in their town, while Bluey and her family continue to make plans to leave.

There is much trepidation and uncertainty as moving day nears. The girls and mother are beside themselves while saying their dreaded goodbyes and watching strangers pack up their drawing tables and kid beds, toting them out the door without emotion. Bluey sits alone on the porch, with music in her ears, as memories come flooding into her vision. Dads talking along the fence line. Moms hugging. Kids playing make believe in the backyard.

Finally, it is time for the family to gather in the car and leave. They peer at the “For Sale” sign that has a sticker across it stating “Sold.” Just as he is about to enter the vehicle, Bandit receives a call that the original buyers of the home are backing out. Suddenly, he walks over to the sign and tears the “Sold” tape from it, pulling the entire sign out of the lawn with all his might, and tossing it onto the asphalt of the cul-de-sac, in a physically dramatic statement of “We are staying here.” The mother and children leap from the car, sprinting to him with massive, tearful smiles, and tackle him to the ground with unmeasurable amounts of appreciation and love. The episode ends with the family of four sitting around a cardboard box table, eating fast food fries dipped in ketchup as the touching music envelopes the scene in perfect closure to the tune of Meg Washington’s “Lazarus Drug.”

As I watched this scene unfold, with my two younger children beside me on the couch, tears welled up. It is a lovely story for the segment of viewers that were spared a significant move. Also, a wonderful offering to children that have grown up in the same location, as it comforts them in the belief that parents can avoid and prevent difficult decisions such as these. For the rest of us that did not have that choice, were you upset? Did it hurt, even just a little? Did you find yourself envious of a fictional, blue, talking dog?

Did you wonder who ever will live up to the magic-making power of Bandit and Chilli? Are you grappling with the fact that our children are watching a show that subtly explains parents should and can be doing any and everything possible to keep our children happy?

That it’s not an option to let their hearts hurt? That we have endless control over matters such as this?

For those of us that moved multiple times in childhood, and never lived in the same house longer than a few years, that begged their soccer coach to adopt us so we would not have to leave our team and best friend and experienced terrifying rejection and bullying after moving across the country that resulted in physical illness with every subsequent school start, absolutely, triggered.

As an adult, I have appreciated and shared the benefits of our three childhood moves. It certainly required us to adapt, lean on our immediate family, and understand that various parts of the country live in a variety of ways. You could call us resilient, adventurous, even brave. But something else is there. We have an underlying grief present, one of sad musings, wondering at times if we would be different people had we had the ability to stay put. To grow up in one town, with a solid community of supporters, and a consistency in our surroundings. And I suppose, this is what “The Sign” manifested out of my subconcscious memory bank of childhood feelings I could not quite identify at that time, let alone express. The Heelers and the humans had different stories. The circumstances of our parent’s jobs were individual.

We, too, sat on the floor in an empty house, devoid of furniture, easting fast food fries atop empty cardboard boxes. But when we finished that meal, and cleaned up the debris, we stood up to close the door to our purple bedroom, and took one last look at our climbing tree in the backyard, cleaned the family boat one last time before it was sold, and buried our tears in our best friend’s shoulder before tearing ourselves apart.

The choice wasn’t ours and the circumstances did not change because of how sad we were about them. There was no right or wrong choice, no terrible decision verses beautiful outcome. It was just…reality.

Is Bluey childhood life? Or the one we all wish we had? A utopian depiction of growing up? As grateful as one can be for our current circumstances, watching the Heeler family mystically bypass the pangs of our past resulted in a dehiscence of scars we thought had sufficiently faded away.

This week, my five year old son was home sick from school. He laid on the couch, curled up in a navy and white blanket I had bought from Costco, an empty rubbish bin on the floor in front of him.

Our two year old wandered over and I told her, “Bubba isn’t feeling well. Do you want to go get him a favorite stuffie to help him feel better?” She nodded, entered her room of 39 stuffed animals, and returned with Bluey.

Although my son scoffed at the idea of this, because he is trying so fervently to grow up fast so he can catch up with his older brother (a concept I continue to explain is futile while reminding him to enjoy being a five year old), he allowed her to lay the Heeler in front of his tummy.

I looked over at our nine year old, who was spinning on his heels to return to his Jurassic Park video game after a quick bathroom break, and realized that at his age, I had moved twice. I had met my best friend. I had developed soccer skills and playground crushes. I would move across the country four years later and start all over again, at the same time building on. I thought to myself, it worked out okay for me and, in the same breath, I prayed he knows what it’s like to feel as if he really belongs somewhere.

When my family made the trek across the country from California to Florida, I was 13 years old. It was a very difficult change for me. I was truly heartbroken and cried in my room above the garage for weeks. It didn’t help that I had attracted the attention of a popular boy at school and was subsequently attacked by his admirer and her band of followers because of it. It was a very long period of adjustment for me, with residual paranoia of others motives and authenticity to sort out. Eventually, I did acclimate.

The move to the Jacksonville, Florida area from a small desert town in California was a good change for our family. We were exposed to new opportunities in sports, education, cultures, and later, careers. Once we had settled here, our Mom and Dad were faced with a similar situation that Bluey’s parents had in “The Sign” when Kara and I were in high school. Our dad made the professional sacrifice to pivot to civil engineering in order for us to stay put. From there, we attended Florida state schools and met our spouses and formed families of our own, all within the community that we still reside in, 24 years since moving to the sunshine state. I suppose we did get the happy ending like Bluey and her sister had. It just took a little more reflection, writing this piece, and input from my big sister to realize it.

The Heelers are a comforting and curious presence in our lives. They always make us feel like we are accepted as we are. Perhaps the ending of “The Sign” was meant to preserve exactly that: the Heelers are maintaining a safe space of love, inclusivity, and connection.

And maybe that’s all we really need.

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