10th November, 2008 (11:44 pm)
The Day With More Disney
We had so much fun. Like, a crazy amount of fun. I’m sure most people reading here have been to one Disneyland or another (the particular flavour to the left is Disneyland Paris, although if someone dropped you in the middle of a Disney Park you’d be hard-pressed to identify specifically which one, know what I mean?) but - I swear it - you won’t ever properly experience Disneyland until you take your kids there. It’s . . . well, I might as well go for the cliche: it was magical.
I visited Disneyland during my stay in California many, many years ago, but that was just a totally different thing. Although I love Disney (no, really - it’s my secret shame: all you have to do is play the end of Beauty and the Beast and I’ll burst into tears and prove it), I don’t recall our Disney trip being anything remotely like what I experienced recently. Not a word of a lie, we didn’t step foot in the overly-cutesy Fantasyland the entire time we were there - no, honestly. Why would we? At that time it was about the adrenalin and drinking and talent-spotting, and my friend K and I weren’t remotely interested in Tea Cups or Small Worlds. We didn’t watch the Parade, or cuddle a character, or do anything you’re supposed to when you go to Disneyland. We were too busy trying not to throw up on Space Mountain and following cute guys around the park. (An aside: the drive home from Anaheim was an experience. At that time I was too young to drive a hire car in the States, so K had to take the drive back to LA on her own, me sat fidgeting next to her. Our friend F had given us very clear, detailed directions to get us there and back safely, only neither she nor we realised that the freeway would be closed for maintenance that night, sending us out on a rolling detour to the darker parts of CA. On top of getting lost, it put several hours on our already lengthy journey home and we only stayed awake by singing - loudly - the complete tracklist of Oasis’ Morning Glory into the night air around our convertible Mustang. Quite a feat, considering we both sing like tone-deaf banshees being stabbed with hot pokers).
Anyway.
Even now, almost three weeks after coming back, S talks about our time in Paris - obsesses about our time there. And no, this might not sound impressive - three weeks? So?? - but trust me . . . five-year-olds generally have the recall of brain-damaged goldfish. Only this morning, as he padded into my bedroom, all tousled and tired and clutching his soft Mickey Mouse, the first words from his mouth? “I miss Disneyland, Mummy.” That was before he said hello, before our good morning kiss. Disneyland has touched him in a place so special, so deep he may never forget it.
Heh. Isn’t that awesome?
Oh, it wasn’t that fantastic - not from a parent’s perspective, anyways. There were 459065 billion over-priced shops and restaurants charging crazy ass prices and if I ever hear the Happy Halloween Song again I’ll punch Halloween Mickey in the face. The queues were stupid, and three separate rides - Crushers’ Coaster, the Tram Tour and Big Thunder Mountain - all broke down at the exact same time we had Fast Passed or queued ready to get on. Although my French is passable I nonetheless struggled across the language barrier, and it’s hard to keep your temper when rude, selfish children are pushing into or past your gentle little boy. I broke my heart when our friends left - worse than when they left for France to begin with, worse that when I left them after staying with them in July - and their absence on the final day was felt all around us, leaving me sad and empty, like a deflated party balloon.
Yet when I look back now, downloading video and uploading photos, my stomach swells with . . . it sounds stupid, I know, but it swells with pride. Little S queued so patiently, behaved so impeccably, gaped so wordlessly, agog at the bright, gorgeous faux world set against the searing, flawless china-blue sky . . . well, it’s hard to feel anything but. I simply feel enveloped with love and happiness and it reminds me, for all the humdrum day-to-day stuff that makes me yell at S and scream at M, there’s nothing I love more than spending time with my boys. I’m so blessed to have my gorgeous little boy, my kind, selfless husband, my funny, generous friends. So for every time S looks back at the magic of this trip, recalls the time he met the ‘real’ version of his most cherished cuddly toy, or shot the stars and skies on the Buzz Lightyear ride, or any one of the other hundred things he did and loved . . . I’ll be doing exactly the same.
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Comment by Charmarie — 15 November, 2008 @ 8:45 am
I can recall the differences in going to Disneyland with S and without. I remember when I went with a few friends we did none of the cliche things and the when I got home I realized how I missed it. I think Disneyland is truly magical. Like you said it’s cliche but in all honesty it’s true, so very true. I’m glad you all and a great time :)