Attention, shoppers, a mother's love is forever,
but Mother's Love rat poison
is only on sale till the end of the day.
Aw.
Mommy! I was waiting by the window.
Can I carry the bag with the milks?
I'm really strong.
I drew you picture.
Yes, she did.
She drew it in pudding.
Oh. Pretty.
But we should clean that up.
No!
- No, no, no! - Fine, fine, fine.
- Pudding mommy can stay. - No kill pudding mommy!
You should've seen when I ate part of ketchup daddy.
No!
Look what I got.
Oh, I love you, love you, love you.
Oh, let's play bubbles now.
This is a perfect moment.
Marge, what's wrong?
It... it's slipping away.
You need to stop that.
W-What did you say?
Bart!
- Whee! I'm flying! - Ah!
Bart! Bart! W-What is happening?
No!
Oh!
Oh.
Oh, no. He popped.
No, no! Don't sue me, Dracula!
Did you say something?
Oh, I-I was dreaming about those bubble parties
we used to have with the kids.
But I was so sad.
Why were you sad?
Because I knew it was gonna end.
I get it. That's why, for me,
the last foot of a six-foot party sub is...
bittersweet.
Honey, you're drenched!
It's bubble juice.
Oh, honey, you don't look so good.
I mean, I think you look great,
but someone else, say, a doctor,
might be alarmed at your pale skin
that is both hot and cold.
Why did we eat at Tuesday o'fridayhan's last night?
I had three glasses of froz-sÃ©.
And a couple froz-oody Marys.
We got pretty hammered.
Ugh. And then we bought hot dogs
from that sketchy street vendor.
Oh, but they smelled so good.
- Wrapped in bacon... - Hmm?
sizzling in that hubcap...
Oh.
- Ugh. - Homer, don't listen.
We have to keep the...
romance alive!
I wonder why you didn't get sick.
The clinical term is: I'm all throwed up.
Should we call Dr. Hibbert?
No, no, I-I'm good now, it's all gone.
All better.
Ooh, bounce-a-thon is tomorrow.
I don't think you're gonna make it.
I'll call the school in the morning.
I have to go.
I volunteered for three jobs
on pta-martyr.com.
Frickin' pta-martyr.com.
Where is he?
Peek-a-boo!
Oh.
Where is he?
Where's my special little guy?
Bart? Where are you?
Don't let go.
- Hmm?
It's okay.
Your coat.
Bart?
Can somebody help me?
I've lost my little boy.
Bart!
Oh no. I was just about to beat
these mutant houseflies at tennis.
What do you want?
I've lost my-my little boy.
You know this is a dream, right?
Bee-eer-err.
Well, that would explain a lot.
Yeah, in the waking world,
I'm not great at didgeridoo.
Is this one of those dreams
where you know you're dreaming?
There's a name for it, somebody once told me...
I'm the one who told you.
That's right.
I'm your inner Lisa.
I remember everything Lisa ever said to you.
Exactly the way you heard it.
Really? So you can tell me what Lisa said
about dreaming when you know you're dreaming?
Yep. It's a scientifical concept called "Lucy dreaming."
It was invented by sleep doctors from a country somewhere.
Wow. She's as smart as old Sheldon.
Since this is your Lucy dream,
you control everything that happens.
So I'm the one making Homer an otter?
Yes. He appears in many forms in your dreams.
Dad's an otter because yesterday
he was lying in a kiddie pool,
eating nachos off his belly.
It's a table that's always with me.
Sometimes Dad's a clown,
sometimes a potato,
sometimes a clown-potato.
And sometimes, he's both of the Property Brothers.
- Why am I these guys? - Why am I these guys?
Never mind, I know why.
But why am I having nightmares about Bart?
Did something happen?
How do I look at recent memories?
It's your Lucy dream, you decide.
Oh. So I can decide that all my thoughts from yesterday
are stored in, I don't know, the oven?
Sure, why not?
Hmm.
- Hmm. Here we go.
Mom! Come quick!
Whoa!
I'm here. I'm here, Bart. What happened?
- Splinter. - Oh. That's it?
It's kind of bleeding.
Maybe not.
When did your hands get so big?
They're bigger than mine.
I dunno. Maybe I got freaky-big hands.
Tweeze, please.
I guess it's been a while since we held hands.
Ew. Did you get it?
- Hmm. - Thanks.
So that's why you're having nightmares.
Bart is super rude and full of splinters.
Maybe. Or maybe I'm just sick off hubcap hotdogs.
Why would awake-me eat those?
That doesn't seem like awake-me.
After enough booze slushies, you think you can do anything.
I challenged the valet to an arm wrestle,
but he turned out to be just a sign.
Why was I drinking frozen wine
in a casual dining chain restaurant
on a school night?
I dunno. After our meeting with Bart's teacher,
you said you needed a drink.
Hmm.
- Hmm...
Whoa!
Look, whatever Bart did,
we'll pay to have it cleaned or replaced
or for its therapy or...
Bart hasn't done anything.
I'm meeting with all the parents.
Even the normal kids. Oh!
Bart is normal.
I-I mean, we don't say normal anymore, I mean...
I-I'm talking to all the parents.
You're not special. I-I mean, you are, but...
What did you want to talk about?
As you know, bounce-a-thon means
we're getting close to the end of the year.
So it's a good time to talk about
the transition to fifth grade.
You know, last year of elementary school
and then it's on to middle school and then...
Middle school?
Then everything changes:
Girls, acne, drugs, body odor.
Listen, I've taught fifth grade.
Please buy your fifth-grader deodorant.
Like, real deodorant, not the "natural" stuff.
They may look like children, but they smell...
like nervous cab-drivers.
The point is: don't freak out.
Okay. About what?
Well, some parents start thinking,
"Oh no. This is the end of my kid's childhood."
But fifth grade isn't the end of Bart's childhood, right?
I mean, technically, it is the last year of it.
Did you find out what happened to Bart?
It's what's going to happen.
He's going to grow up.
Mm.
Damn kid.
It was such a strange dream.
Bart was four
and he was so adorable.
I'd almost forgotten there was a time
when Bart was the sweet one,
and Lisa was the difficult one.
Uh, to be fair...
I'm only 18 months old,
so to be going through my terrible twos now
is actually pretty advanced.
Crap, I'm still dreaming!
Bounce-a-thon!
I'm coming, too!
- Yay! - Aren't you sick?
I thought I heard you barfing.
No, that wasn't barfing.
That was... loud, sloshy burps...
- Ugh. - I signed up for snack,
so I have to make marshmallow trea...
I can do this. Just have to melt some margari...
Don't worry. Super-Dad is already
making the marshmallow treats.
Which krispies did you use? Rice or cocoa?
I'm making my own. The rice is krispying as we speak.
Oh, it smells like you've burnt it!
No problem, I'll moisten it with the last of the eggnog.
I'm throwing up stuff I ate years ago.
I think I saw wedding cake.
You really should stay home.
Oh, maybe you're right.
This will be the first bounce-a-thon I've ever missed.
Oh, missing stuff is the greatest.
When I do stuff,
I have a fear of missing out on missing out.
You know: Fo-moo-mo.
Homer, listen, you have to do this for me.
Take a picture of each kid
giving a thumbs-up at the finish line.
It's for my scrapbook.
I've already made windows for each school year.
Bart, thumbs-up slowly past Daddy.
Give him time to focus.
Mom, there's no easy way to tell you this,
so I'm just gonna say it.
At school, I'm becoming known for taking cutting-edge,
no-holds-barred comedy photos.
It's true.
I've heard fifth graders say so.
So, w-what are you saying?
There's no way I can do a thumbs-up at bounce-a-thon.
- What? - It will ruin the brand
I've been building since picture day.
My fans expect me to top inside-out eyelids
and scotch tape nose.
You don't understand the pressure I'm under.
But this is for the bounce-a-thon album.
So you'll always remember bounce-a-thon.
But I don't even like bounce-a-thon.
I'm making fun of bounce-a-thon.
What?
None of us kids like bounce-a-thon.
It's not very cool.
Well, you thought it was cool last year.
Bart, just one thumbs-up, please?
I'm sorry, but no.
Crazy pictures is my thing now.
You should respect that this is just how I am this year.
Bart, you sound so mature and grown up.
I hate that.
Run!
Something's coming!
This is silly. I don't need symbolism.
I know what I'm afraid of.
And it's not a bear. Sorry.
It's not a nightmare.
It's reality.
Bart's growing up.
I should've treasured every time
he held my hand because...
I don't remember when he stopped.
The poet Kahlil Gibran once said:
Parents are bows...
Like bow-and-arrow bows?
from which children are shot forth as an arrow-thingy.
The bow doesn't feel sad when it sees
how far and true the arrow flies.
Well, the bow feels a little sad.
The bow doesn't want to lose touch
and the arrow has never been great about answering texts.
But even after Bart grows up,
you'll still have Lisa and Maggie...
Oh, my God. Lisa and Maggie!
It's going to happen with all of them!
Oops.
Bart is just the beginning.
One by one...
all my babies
will leave the nest.
I'm going to lose all of them.
Honey, we mustn't break awake-you's brain.
Remember those commercials where they show you
what depression is like?
A raincloud follows you everywhere,
you get sucked into sofas,
and when it gets really bad,
your wind-up monkey stops clapping.
Look! Look, Bart's at a playground!
Bart! Bart! They have your favorite
back-and-forth riding-thingy!
The duck, Bart! Ride the duck!
Bart!
No!
Okay, maybe I am being a teensy bit negative.
Okay.
A little brain-hurricane.
My time as a mom will eventually come to an end.
I'll have to fill my days with a bunch of stupid hobbies.
I don't want an Etsy storefront!
It's not happening now.
So it's silly to be sad about it now.
It's like going to work on time.
There's no point.
I want to show you something.
Whoa!
I'm coming, too.
- Yay! - Aren't you sick?
I thought I heard you barfing.
Freeze it right there.
Now, watch it again but this time look over...
here.
I'm coming, too.
- Yay! - Aren't you sick?
- Ha! - She's rehearsing her thumbs-up.
Oh.
Oh, I was so sad
that Bart had outgrown the bounce-a-thon,
I couldn't see that my sweet Lisa still loves it.
For now.
Next year, she'll probably turn on it, too.
Ma'am, I'm gonna have to ask you
to get out of the dark place, please.
You're right. Bounce-a-thon still means a lot to Lisa.
So, what are you... like, my feelings police?
No, I'm pretty sure I'm here because, deep down,
you're attracted to me.
The uniform, the low center of gravity,
my thick, syrupy voice.
I don't think so.
If anything, I'm into Eddie.
Yeah, he's a beautiful man.
I love that Lisa was so happy I was gonna be there.
I should be there for her.
I've got to get to the bounce-a-thon
before Lisa's childhood slips away.
How can I wake myself up?
Oh. Well, this'll do it.
Okay, looking good, feeling good.
Even better now.
I'll be there, Lisa, I won't miss it.
Or a pickle and egg sandwich
from Joey Mayonnaise's sandwich creamery!
Where the hospitality is as warm as the mayonnai...
Okay, I ruined the car.
But mommy's s-still coming, Lisa.
Okay, here we go.
Oh, I got to sign up. Okay. Username?
Uh, bounce-mom.
Taken. Fine.
Uh, barf-mom.
Taken? Really?
Borf-mom.
What? Oh, come on.
Marge.
Oh, that worked.
Ah!
I'm here, Lisa.
I promised to wear this, uh, humorous wig for bounce-a-thon
if we had 30 lice-free days and, uh, well,
we had 29, but I'm just going to assume that today
is going to go well.
And on the bounce track right now,
the second grade.
That's Lisa's class.
Excuse me, excuse me. Let me through.
I'm here to support my child.
Yeah, well, guess what, Princess blue,
we're all here to support our kids.
So stick that in your g-string and make change.
I'm sorry, I'm very, very sick and I just...
Sick? W-What kind of sick?
I don't know. Some kind of, um,
I don't know, pox or plague.
Oh, no. Food smells.
It's okay, I'll just hold my breath.
Must... get... picture.
Mrs. Simpson?
D-Did I get the picture?
I took a photo after I passed out?
Yeah, we had to pry the phone from your hand.
I've been kind of a wreck since our meeting.
You know, when you said Bart's childhood is over?
I did not say that. I would never say that.
Bart's childhood isn't over.
I did notice that you got very quiet
after I mentioned middle school.
You didn't say anything else.
Except to ask about happy hour at Tuesday O'Fridayhan's.
Wait, you didn't say he was heading toward
girls and drugs and acne?
No, of course not.
Oh, my gosh, that was a dream.
I should have noticed that you were 17 feet tall.
I ate bad things last night.
You didn't say we had to buy Bart deodorant next year.
Oh, no, no, no, I did say that.
That part is very important.
Strong deodorant.
Hey, Bart's got a lot of childhood left.
I mean, he scores in the 50th percentile
for knowing his right and left,
which is, oh, not a test score
I should have said out loud at a school function.
Are you going to be okay?
Yes. I'm just going to lie here
until the school stops spinning...
Ah.
Feeling better?
Mm-hmm.
I missed the picture,
but Lisa was so happy to see me today.
So, for now, I'm happy.
And who knows what the future holds?
Bart could knock up his high school girlfriend.
You could have grandchildren
before Maggie starts kindergarten.
Wouldn't that be nice?
Time to wake up.
Oh.
Here he comes.
Mm. My funny little guy.
Oh...
That's...
That's really good.
Did you get the picture?
Was my crack centered?
Oh, Bart, it was perfect.
You liked it?
I loved it.
Thanks. Wanna go to the dunk tank?
The gym teacher I hate is on the chair.
Sure.
Let's dunk that sucker.
And on the way home,
let's go deodorant shopping.
- synced and corrected by sot26 - www.addic7ed.com