Like most young children her age, my daughter is obsessed with cartoons. For reasons unknown to me and other tortured parents familiar with the human alarm clock of tiny shoving hands accompanied by piercing voice, early Saturday mornings are the preferred time for watching these animated shows. So I remember clearly the morning my daughter interrupted my sleep with a repeated request to watch Moana. Barely awake, I dragged myself to the lounge and turned on the TV to play the movie for her. I settled on the couch hoping to catch a few more minutes of sleep. Boy, was I wrong.