There is one early memory still so clear in my mind though, a scene with no photo to back it up. On the day of our departure from the Contemporary Resort in 1989 or 90, my brother broke out in chicken pox. I remember room service arriving that morning, and a petrified waiter who had never experienced the virus, dropping our food as he b-lined for the door. I remember my parents calling an audible when they learned we weren't allowed to fly home; renting a car, and driving all the way from Florida back to Pittsburgh. Magically, getting us home in one piece and happily ever after.
About ten years later, my brother and I ran through Frontierland as the crowds started lining the parks anticipating the Electric Parade; leaping through the air to get to Splash Mountain, my brother shouted 'I am Peter Pan!' in the face of the public unsure about the crazies (us) charging through the streets. I was belly laughing running behind him. It was magic. Totally odd. But pure joy nonetheless.
***
Last week, the kids and I flew to Orlando; I was there for a Convention, the kids were there to see Mickey Mouse, and Nana and Opa met us there to babysit.
From Tuesday through Thursday, the magic of Disney was primary contained on the property of the Grand Floridian; which trust me, could easily have sufficed. The pools, carriages, miniature furniture, Mickey Mouse sprinkles, live music, and kid friendly service (everywhere) made the extra time I spent commuting to and from the Convention Center worth it.
Because we stayed at the resort next door, the park was only a stop away on the Monorail in the morning.
We arrived just in time to see Mickey and the Mayor of Main Street, USA open the gates for the day. The wonder and delight on Mary's face brought a tear to my Mom's eye.
For the first two hours, we saw a lot of Fantasyland; rode the tea cups, flew on Dumbo, went on Goofy's barn stopping plane ride (twice!), went around the Carousel, dove under the sea with the Little Mermaid and hugged princesses. Lots of princesses. With every line there was frustration and a lesson learned in taking turns. On each ride, there was a look of utter joy; never let this end. And with each attraction's request to please exit to the right, there were requests to ride it again. And again and again.
In the afternoon, navigation through the park grew more intense as the crowds became denser and denser. As well as older, sweatier, and more aggressive. We pushed (the strollers) on though. We explored the Nile, Congo, and Amazon on the Jungle Cruise. I petrified Mary to the point of tears on the Pirates of the Carribean. I pushed the gas pedal as Mary bumped me back and forth along Tomorrowland's race track. And I passed Bobby back and forth between my Mom and Dad as his wild man came out waiting in line after line.
Around 2:30, I had had enough. Of the people, the lines, the germs, and did I mention ALL the people. Then it started pouring. Then down pouring. So I anticlimactically called it quits, threw Mary into the ferry without a driver, waited for said driver in his poncho to arrive, and sailed across one of Mickey's bays to our hotel. I scrubbed the kids, put them down for naps, and promptly passed out as well. Enough was enough.
A couple hours later, after debating where dinner would be, I decided that I hadn't given Disney my all; I still had a Peter Pan moment or two in me; a couple more rides, a princess, a memory or two, not to mention a Fast Pass.
So back on the Monorail. Back through the gates ...
But wait, Mary was crying. Uncontrollably. I saw a puddle underneath her and knew exactly what was wrong. I scooped her up and said I would get her changed. It was then that I found out things were worse than they seemed. Poop dripped down onto my jeans all the way across Main Street and into the nearest restroom. Nothing that a magical sink-side scrub down, new princess panties, and a hug from Princess Aurora couldn't fix. Onward.
Minutes later I took Mary flying with Peter Pan and Wendy then sailed across the continents teaching Mary the words to 'It's a Small World.' It was past dinner time, so I ran into Pinnocchio's Haus for some pizza and salad with Mary. But just as we sat down, Mary had to use the bathroom again, and unpleasantly. Bobby was missing a shoe; an artifact still flying around with Peter Pan; the stroller was lost, everyone ran different ways, no one ate, okay, enough is enough. My Dad called. Abort. Meet at the Monorail.
Someone on the plane asked me yesterday, do you think she will remember any of it?
I said I think so. I hope so.
I asked Mary what her favorite part was.
'Snow White. And the little kids that sang It's a Small World. Remember?'
Yes. I do.
While I know the photos will have to suffice for the memories she may not keep; how sweetly Cinderella hugged her, spinning across from me on the tea cups, and her first glimpse of Main Street. I hope she sensed the magic that has captured me all of these years. Or maybe she'll just remember running around the bathroom all bare.
The only thing missing from this visit; Daddy. Who I know will add to the magic next time.
Lo.
A big THANK YOU to my Mom and Dad for being the best babysitters and troopers of all. If it was exhausting for me ... I know it was even more so for you. Mary, Bobby and I love you!
