Where were we? Oh, that’s right, HEADED TO DISNEY!!
Tinkerbell made her last round of tooting, and the kids gleefully opened
the pile she brought them. My van was in such disarray. Too much
traveling, too much hunting and pecking from me. The night's black in
front of us. We're following Grandma and Grandpa.
Finally, Disney property, Disney signs, Disney foliage, Disney smells.
We pull into our parking lot at POP. Our home for the length of our
stay. We grab bags and head towards to hotel room. It's so late at
night, 11:30 pm or worse. The kids were shuffling. We were shuffling.
The grandparents are perky.
We stop for a minute to stare at the seen in front of us. Glittering,
Huge bowling pins reflecting off the man made lake. Instead of garish
and tacky, like any everyday item made that big should be, it makes us
sigh with contentment.
We are here.
You can’t do this twice. It happens once a visit. You arrive. You're
the lucky souls walking into the resort. Clutching the folder, sorting
through maps to find your room. For the rest of your time in Disney,
your feet will do this walk without having to ask your head for
directions. You won’t have to count buildings or guess which is faster,
the stairs or the elevator.
Breathe it in.
The Disney air is so much sweeter. It's full of promise.
We find our room, just one away from Grandma and Grandpa. Grandma signs up to monitor the shower for the kids.
Grandpa, Mr. A, and I go get more bags like the men we are. The
room is sooooo far away from the parking. Our bags have somehow
reproduced in the van. Little lizards scatter out of our way.
Finally, we are in the room. We say goodnight to the grandparents. Grandma has the kids tucked into the bed.
I face my husband. Between us there are 4,836 bags. I won’t sleep until
each one is unpacked and sorted. I must know where everything is. There
must be order.
At 1:30 am the room is ready for me to go to bed. Mr. A’s pupils
are shaped like two hidden Mickeys. He turns his brain off like a robot
and joins the kids in dreamland.
I'm is keyed up. My eyes blink around the dark room trying to
grind my thoughts to a halt. It's heading towards 2:00am.
The only early plan we have for the whole trip is tomorrow. Because of
the cast black out we must use hard tickets my parents get from Disney
as a gift once a year to get into the Magic Kingdom. The rest of the
parks we can be let in on their “Main Gate pass."
We have 8:30am reservations at Crystal Palace. What was I thinking?
Tomorrow's also the only Magic Kingdom Extra Magic Hours. So we want
to stay until they kick us out.
The kids are going to be dog tired from the big party, all the traveling.
As I lay here at 2:00am knowing I have to get up at 7:00am, I'm
regretting the super early morning. But Mr. A would love to take
pictures of an almost empty Main Street. I'd love a family picture
on an almost empty Main Street.
Any picture we've taken in the past, in front of the castle, always
has had an angry, photo-bomber who is a sweaty fourth dayer (guest who has comandoed Disney
for four days) glaring at our photopass photographer and standing near
enough to us that when showing the picture to friends, they say, “Who’s
that, your sister?”
Dang, that was a long sentence.
So, I'm hoping for Dream picture. No tourists, no fourth dayer faux sister
2:15 am Close eyes!!! Close!! For all that is good and Holy quit being awake!! I need to be on my game. Disney.
2:30am Damn it.
I start thinking. Always a bad move.
Remembering. Mr. A and I pull up to a local Chick-fil-a, kids waiting for lunch in the back of the van.
Now, Mr. A was batting a hundred because even though he used the
high pitched squeal he saves for ordering from Drive through speakers,
the chick on the other end of the speaker forgot to address him as
And it makes me laugh.
Now, she didn’t call him “sir” either, but I keep the observation to myself.
We pull up. Respectable. Reasonable.
She looks him dead in the eye and says in a really loud voice:
“WE ARE JUST WAITING ON YOUR NUGGETS, SIR”
Now that comment is just too much.
So many jokes I want to crack.
Loud, inappropriate jokes.
Mr. A won’t look at me. He knows what I'm brewing. I start nose laughing.
He's still avoiding me. I'm surprised at his self control. Because he probably already knows what jokes I'm telling.
In my head.
And they're good ones.
This past Father’s day, I let GC pick out Mr. A’s father day gift
all by herself. She found a T-Shirt with a squirrel on it. She insisted
on it. I did try to steer her in other directions. His face was
precious when he opened it.
So my only comment, after we were clear of the hard working chicken girl, was. Well, your nuggets are big.
2:45 am Still. Looking. Around.
Recently. A bra of mine. A Favorite actually, has started creaking. Like
the door into a really haunted house. It's so awkward, in a group of
grown ups, to creak. Loudly. Every time the twins move, the door creaks.
It puzzles people. Need to fix that bra. Or throw it out.
2:55am I call down to the front desk and request a mallet to the head to
put my ridiculous head to sleep. Goofy shows up with a smile.
7:00am the alarm on Mr. A’s cell phone rings.
Blast out of bed. Dress the groggy kids. Pack the Bagalini. Antibacterial, check. Band aids, check.
GC gets her hair brushed out very carefully. I pack her brush and her
entire Cinderella dress in an extra bag (with a jewel encrusted Mickey
Did I forget to mention? At the last minute, before we left, I made a
Bibbity Bobbity Boutique appointment for my little girl! And they had
room in the castle. I was so excited. She was mildly impressed and
willing to go along with it. I read a few (actually a lot) of bad
Can you imagine? What grinch gives the Cinderella experience in the
Castle at the Magic Kingdom a bad review? Pish Posh. Party poopers. This
is going to be great. What a great moment for my girl. First Main
Street empty, Crystal Palace and my friend Pooh, then moving onto the
Transformation for my little princess. So lucky to get it early in the
morning so it can last all day.
The Anastasias mobilize. We are ready. Point my nose towards my castle. I'm on my way home Mickey.
Up next: Mrs. A gets angry. In Disney. Oh My.