A Testament to my Three-Year-Old Self

I’ve always had interesting musical choices. Whether it was a Thanksgiving mix from the 50s, the top hits of the summer, or a random movie soundtrack, I’ve never been able to rest upon one musical genre, period, style, for more than a couple of months. I remember vividly that, when I was in middle school, there was a time where the only thing I wanted to listen to was the soundtrack from My Fair Lady. Yes, the Broadway musical. In fact, I have an entire hours-long playlist called I’m fed up with modern music. But I digress. The point is, sometimes, even I can’t tell where my interests lie.

When I was little, I had a small plastic CD player. I know, I’m showing my age, but it was sometime around 2012, and it was one of my most prized possessions. It came in a little mesh bag, and the player itself had a clear top and pink detailing. I remember carefully opening up the back, popping open the top with the satisfying click, and fitting in whatever colorful, specially made plastic disc I wanted to listen to. Now it wasn’t a normal CD player. Of course not, why would you trust a three-year-old with one of those? No, it was a toy, probably from sometime during the early 2000s, certainly before I was born. The discs were thick and sturdy and were in different shades of pastel colors. Each one of them, once fitted into the CD player, would play a medley of revamped Disney songs from a specific set of movies. 

There was a disk for The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, and Cinderella. It wasn't the exact recording from the movie; they were instrumental, slightly jazzier versions, and I would listen to them on repeat, over and over again as I danced around my grandmother's living room, her big, ornate Persian carpet in the center. I would push the coffee table out of the way, grab the mesh bag and dance as the sunlight streamed in from the balcony. I was shorter than the couch. 

The CD player wasn’t the only thing I danced to, as dance parties were very frequent in my youth, but it’s what I remember most vividly. I loved those CDs, I really did. But I actually hadn’t thought of them in years. They were tucked away somewhere in a dusty corner of my grandmother‘s apartment. But recently, I’ve been in a bit of a musical slump. I don’t want to listen to oldies, not because I dislike them, but because I’ve heard them over and over again. I listened to that Thanksgiving mix for months. And, despite really liking Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan, I’ve exhausted more modern options as well. No, it’s not that I dislike it, it’s just that…the music that I’ve been listening to hasn’t really been tickling that spot in my brain. The spot that makes me happy, slightly nostalgic, and brings a smile to my face so that I don’t even realize it. What warms my heart and fills me with an inexplicable feeling. 

On a whim, a couple of days ago, I went on Spotify and pressed play on “I Won’t Say I’m in Love” from Disney’s Hercules. Oh, how I love that movie. I remember I watched that one so many times, along with Mary Poppins and the 90s version of Annie, that my mom hid my DVD. She says she didn’t, but I do know that there was a rule stating I could only watch Hercules once a week. Anyway, it’s always had a special place in my heart. Not only for the music and the story, which is, of course, not at all similar to the myth, but the overly exaggerated characters and larger than life storylines. Now, I can appreciate the beautiful artistry, the way that the animation flows in the jazz and gospel elements of the musical score as well.

It reminds me of a time when all I wanted to do was watch Disney movies on repeat - over and over again. Lately, what’s been tickling that musical itch is… Disney songs. Of course, I have my favorites - and least favorites. I cannot, no, will not, listen to “Let It Go” one more time. 

When I listen to these Disney songs, it fills me with a joy that I didn’t even know that I remembered. Not to say that I’m not happy, on the contrary. But those Disney songs remind me so much of what I loved when I was a toddler. What I still love today. There’s been over a decade since, and I’ve cut my hair, grown up, made friends and lost them. I’ve gone through elementary, middle, and now high school. I’ve changed so much as a person. And yet, through all that, it’s still me. I’m still that toddler, the one who would throw dance parties with her best friend and drink tea with her grandma under the dining room table. It’s still the same little girl, joyfully dancing to Disney songs on her little plastic CD player. I’m a testament to all that I have been, including my three-year-old self.