This is Trash, This is Trash, This is Trash.

Photo by Peter Bond on Unsplash

Wall-E, Timeless Lessons, and the Missing "R"

The other week, we took our kids to see Wall-E at the Egyptian Theater. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a heartwarming yet stark reminder of the impact of unchecked consumerism and environmental neglect. Despite being over a decade old, its message feels timeless and, honestly, a little too relevant.

Watching Wall-E made me reflect on what we teach our kids about the environment. We do a great job emphasizing the basics: recycling, picking up trash, leaving spaces cleaner than we found them. But there’s one area where we (myself included) could improve: focusing on the first and most important “R” — reduce.

The Landfill Lesson

Earlier this week, I had a moment of realization with my daughter at the grocery store. As we wandered the aisles, I casually mentioned how everything we see — the food, the packaging, the plastic — would eventually end up in the landfill. I explained that here in our city, that means a literal hole in the foothills where all this trash is dumped. And it looks a lot like Wall-E’s world.

She couldn’t believe it. For the rest of the trip, she loudly declared, “That’s plastic. That’s trash. That’s going in the hole.” Every aisle. Every shelf. At first, I was mortified. Her voice carried, and other shoppers definitely noticed. She wasn’t wrong, of course, but her unfiltered commentary was a little, well, embarrassing.

But as I watched her, I realized it wasn’t her reaction that was obnoxious — it was the truth behind it. She was just calling out what I’d become numb to: nearly everything we buy is wrapped in packaging that will eventually become waste. I was teaching her, but I hadn’t comprehended my own lesson until she started pointing it out.

I paused, listening to her, and let myself really see the aisles and shelves. I thought about how often those shelves are restocked and how every item held something destined for the hole in our foothills. I’ve always known, intellectually, that plastic-wrapped snacks and disposable packaging contribute to the problem. But hearing my daughter call it out so plainly — this is trash, this is trash — brought a clarity I hadn’t fully felt before.

The Convenience Trap

I’ve always thought of myself as a “reduce, reuse, recycle” person. I talk to my kids about it all the time. We avoid single-use items like applesauce pouches or plastic utensils. We shop for clothes almost exclusively at thrift stores and have a large collection of pickle jars we use for storage. But let me be honest — it’s not always easy. Sometimes, I feel like the inconvenient mom, explaining (again) why we can’t have the cute individually wrapped snacks. Other times, I catch myself thinking, Am I overthinking this? Does it really matter? I’m just one person.

But now, I think about the grocery store shelves. About my daughter pointing out the waste I’d stopped seeing. And I realize it does matter.

Reducing: The Most Radical Act

The first “R” in “reduce, reuse, recycle” doesn’t get enough attention. It’s the least glamorous because it asks us to confront our habits and question the convenience culture we’ve been steeped in. Reducing means consuming less, choosing fewer packaged products, and buying only what we truly need.

It’s not easy, especially in a world designed to make us feel like we need more. But teaching my kids — and reminding myself — to reduce is one of the most meaningful ways we can push back. It’s the step that matters most. Because without reducing, all the recycling and reusing in the world won’t fix the bigger problem of overconsumption.

Choosing to Be "Obnoxious"

Sometimes it feels awkward to talk about these things. It’s easy to worry about coming across as “that person” — the one who won’t buy applesauce pouches or declines the plastic straw. But maybe being a little obnoxious is exactly what we need to be.

My daughter’s grocery store commentary wasn’t just embarrassing — it was illuminating. Kids have a way of seeing the world plainly, without the filters we adults put up to avoid discomfort. Maybe we could all use a little more of that perspective.

So the next time I feel self-conscious about teaching my kids to say no to unnecessary waste or pushing for better choices, I’ll think of my daughter pointing at those grocery shelves and calling it like she sees it: “This is trash. This is trash. This is trash.”

And maybe I’ll even start saying it myself.