Pixar films have always been able to tug on the heartstrings a little, but Toy Story 5 does something different. The new film was nostalgic and wholesome, yet it was incredibly thought-provoking. Instead of grieving our childhood, it asked a difficult question: What happens to childhood when a screen is competing for a child’s attention? Additionally, it almost forces you to stop and reflect on the importance of play, imagination and connection.
That’s the world that Bonnie (main character) lives in now, and it’s the world that most of us are raising our children in now, too.
It’s safe to say that many parents or carers can relate to Bonnie’s world – screens are everywhere. You can’t escape it. Jessie the cowgirl made a striking comment when she observed kids interacting via the Lilypad: “How is Bonnie supposed to make friends if they can’t even look at each other?” Her observation captures the tension perfectly: the true disconnect between the younger generation. It’s a short line, but it lands hard.
Bonnie’s dance girls group chat becomes a symbol of this new social landscape. When there was a post published about finding her toys, she was mocked by her new friends, and the digital reactions, such as the emoji responses, comments and the silence, all made her feel outed and embarrassed. We witnessed the new and modern form of peer pressure, one that Feeney and Colleagues. (2019) describes shaping children’s social experiences long before they have the emotional tools to navigate them.
For Bonnie, the fallout is immediate. Before the group chat incident, we see how much her offline rituals mean to her in one scene. Bonnie is heartbroken that Lilypad is out of charge, she protests, “Dad, it’s not ok. I’m going to miss the game. We play the turtle game every morning”. This is the exact moment the film insists we pay attention to. It’s not about the turtle game, but rather, a connection disguised as a game, repeated daily until it becomes a language only she and her friends can share. It shares the same idea as one of the toys puts into words: “Toys are for playing, and that’s how kids play”.
Play isn’t the filler between the “real” parts of childhood; for children like Bonnie, it is the real part.
This is where Lilypad, the new tech-toy character, becomes an interesting addition. She isn’t framed as a villain pulling kids away from their toys; instead, she’s the one who first names the disconnect Bonnie faces, long before anyone else notices. Once she is plugged back in and regains battery charge, she panics, saying Bonnie is missing out on what is happening and that “there are already inside jokes happening” between the girls. This is revealing, as it captures how digital interactions create microcommunities that feel exclusive, fast-moving, and difficult for children to navigate once they’ve stepped away.
Later, in one of the film’s sharpest exchanges, a comparison is drawn directly between Lilypad and the traditional toys: “You’re just a game, not play.” This is an impactful statement: a toy’s worth is never about its features or how techy it is, but about the relationship it builds with the child holding it.
Van Hoorn et al. (2019) has a similar argument, that it’s through open-ended imaginative play, not passive or programmed interactions, that children build the social and emotional skills relationships require. Watching Bonnie navigate her own version of this, it’s hard not to see the film quietly making the same point: connection cannot be manufactured. It has to be played into being.
And that’s precisely what separates play from the passive entertainment screens so often offer. When Bonnie plays, she is the one doing the “playing into being”, not a screen, not an algorithm, not a program running on rails someone else wrote. In a world where screens often offer passive entertainment, Toy Story 5 argues that imaginative play offers something screens cannot: agency.
When children play with toys, they create a story. They decide the rules. They negotiate meaning. They build worlds that reflect their hopes, fears, and curiosities. That sense of authorship is profoundly empowering, and yet, profoundly protective.
In the end, the film lands on something through provocation. A line that could be the film’s thesis statement, “growing up shouldn’t mean abandoning imagination or things we love”. Bonnie doesn’t have to choose between her old world and her new friends. She needs to remember how to look up.
It’s a message worth sitting with. Play, connection, and imagination build resilience. It’s something we should be fighting to protect.
How do you balance screens, play and connection in your home? Drop a comment below. Your insights help us all raise more connected, imaginative individuals.