dpamac
06-22-2007, 08:26 PM
We had settled into a pretty good routine. Mom and dad get up; dad goes off to get coffee, comes back gets ready while the kids get up. We were packing up for the day when Gert noticed that her fanny pack was missing.
“What’s in it,” I ask.
“Just her sunglasses,” Mom replies. “We’ve had that Pooh fanny pack since Matilda was three. I’m not too worried.”
Suddenly Gert melted.
“What’s wrong,” I ask.
“My magic! My magic was in there! Now it’s gone,” she started to cry.
“It’s okay, honey,” I said. “We still have some in my pack from the front of the Magic Kingdom. Remember you picked it up from the ground in the morning?”
“That’s not REAL magic,” she sobbed. “My magic was from my Fairy Godmother. IT was special. It was real magic! My magic is gone.” She sat, quietly crying, on the bed.
If she had sobbed, I think I would have been okay. But the quiet crying was worse. This was a little girl who was resigned to never seeing her magic again. It wasn’t disappointment or sadness she was dealing with. It was the sudden realization that she could not solve this problem. It was just “one of those things.” And she knew it. That magic was inexorably tied to a moment and the moment, like the magic, was gone. We couldn’t get it back.
My heart sank. She was crushed about this silly confetti in the shape of a Mickey head. I immediately went into crisis mode. Where could I find it? Who would have some? Do they sell it? We had three full days left in Disney World. Before we left, I vowed, I would have Gert’s magic returned.
A little deflated we hit the parks. Gert, ever the Dr. Doolittle, had a herd of ducks following her. Can ducks walk in herds? Well, they do now.
In all honesty, it was a somewhat unremarkable day. We rode Triceratops Spin, wandered through Dinoland, played in the Boneyard and ate churros in the morning. The most interesting thing that happened was when I was in line for the Churros, and older gentleman was trying to wade his way through the Dining Plan and snacks. At one point I was concerned that we’d have to get out a rubric, some software and a consultant to work out what he wanted to do. Finally, all was figured out and he started ordering everything, finishing up:
“Gimme one of them Chee-Toes and some of them Dor-eeee-Toes.” He said each word deliberately, like the cast member was not sure what was going on. She figured it out.
We headed over to Camp Minnie Mickey to meet the big guy while we bided our time for our Everest Fast Passes. Somewhere in there we shopped and picked up a monkey. Because, haven’t you always wanted a monkey. As we strolled we stopped and let my goofy daughters communicate with the animals.
While Mom rode Everest, we watched a story about why pigs are dirty. For the rest of the vacation we all yelled out “Mighty Mighty Pig!”
Mom came back from Everest with a grin on her face like she had just stolen candy. She was laughing like a maniac. Now it was my turn. I tried to convince Matilda to give up her dislike for roller coasters and ride with me, but she declined choosing, instead, to be a Pirate Princess and just look good. In fact, that was all she really wanted to do all day. Just look good. Not ride, not really do much of anything but walk, find a place about ten steps ahead to stop, turn and strike a pose. As a male, I’m not sure I understand this but I learned to accept it and not tease. Oh, as a dad I had an intense urge to tease, but I was smart and didn’t.
I rode Everest with an 8 year old girl who was a thrill junkie. She had a blast. As did I. This is now on my list of must do rides. Unfortunately, I looked for the Dream Squad when I got off the ride but, unlike Ian, no such luck. Instead, I had to ride the high of the fun I had. But, let it be known that I cursed Ian for the rest of the day. He’ll pay for his luck in October at the Anniversary meet. Oh yes, he will.
We grabbed some lunch and then headed off to Conservation Station or Earth Watch presented by Waste Management powered by GE or whatever it’s called these days. After looking at everything and playing around with some animal cameras inside (Daddy focused his on a piece of grass!).
Out in Affection Section Dr. Gertlittle was in her environment. She loves animals and wants them to love her. So these little love hounds wandering around, begging for attention were perfect for her. Matilda, meanwhile, focused in on the cow.
The cow was mooing like crazy. Loud, low, mournful. I suspected it was because she had seen a trainer and was trying, in vain, to convince the trainer to feed her. Matilda was convinced that the cow was sad and lonely. She stood there and stroked the cow, talking to it quietly. I was preparing to explain to her why we could not have a cow, nor could we get it home. She did keep telling me that it was an Irish cow. “An IRISH cow. Mr. O’Brien. An IRISH cow. A wee little cow. We could name him Guinness.”
Mom, the intrepid knitter was looking at the llama the same way a meat man would have looked at the cow as a walking steak. She was thinking about all the wool and yarn she could make. There’s a sweater. There’s a pair of socks! And, oooh, a shrug!
She knitted the entire time. You wouldn’t think a pretty, young woman would not only be obsessed with knitting, but standing in the middle of Florida in the summer, surrounded by theme park rides, going on and on about how she was working on an increase in this lace pattern that she found, rewrote and adapted. “It was originally a sweater, but I’ve turned it into an entire dress with my personal genetic code hidden in the pattern using intarsia. Giggle.”
Anyway, after Matilda didn’t save the cow and mom didn’t shave the llama we decided to just head back to the hotel. It was hot, threatening clouds were rolling in and we were just plain tired. So we headed back to the hotel.
Waiting for the bus, Gert started attacking my legs to see if she could push them up. I guess another family was doing this. Daddy let her win for a while until she said, “Come on Dad! Your legs are weak!”
Now, I’ve mentioned the cycling right? I’m a cyclist. I ride between 400 and 800 miles a month. Certainly I’m not professional racer, but I ride a lot and I’ve worked hard for these leg muscles. Plus, this is a Gert thing. Whenever she rides with me she actually taunts me, tells me how fast she can ride, how slow I am and how I’ll never be able to ride a bike as fast as she can.
She really knows how to get a cyclist’s goat.
“Oh really,” I ask. “Try now.” I actually resisted her and she started to struggle and strain to get me to bend my knee. Then the bus came.
“Oh well,” she said, “the bus is here. I win, old man.”
As god as my witness she called me “old man.” Sigh.
It poured. It poured all night. Pepper Market was crowded. Everything was crowded. We fought our way through the crowds and were able to sit and eat. We splashed in puddles and went back to the room to play with the stuff we had bought.
“Pretty good day,” I said. “Relaxing and fun.”
“Yeah,” said Mom.
“Uh huh,” said Matilda.
“Too bad I lost my magic,” said Gert.
Darn it. I clearly had work to do.
Tomorrow: Phone calls, begging, cajoling cast members, an aborted Typhoon Lagoon trip, the Boutique and Boardwalk. Oh my!
“What’s in it,” I ask.
“Just her sunglasses,” Mom replies. “We’ve had that Pooh fanny pack since Matilda was three. I’m not too worried.”
Suddenly Gert melted.
“What’s wrong,” I ask.
“My magic! My magic was in there! Now it’s gone,” she started to cry.
“It’s okay, honey,” I said. “We still have some in my pack from the front of the Magic Kingdom. Remember you picked it up from the ground in the morning?”
“That’s not REAL magic,” she sobbed. “My magic was from my Fairy Godmother. IT was special. It was real magic! My magic is gone.” She sat, quietly crying, on the bed.
If she had sobbed, I think I would have been okay. But the quiet crying was worse. This was a little girl who was resigned to never seeing her magic again. It wasn’t disappointment or sadness she was dealing with. It was the sudden realization that she could not solve this problem. It was just “one of those things.” And she knew it. That magic was inexorably tied to a moment and the moment, like the magic, was gone. We couldn’t get it back.
My heart sank. She was crushed about this silly confetti in the shape of a Mickey head. I immediately went into crisis mode. Where could I find it? Who would have some? Do they sell it? We had three full days left in Disney World. Before we left, I vowed, I would have Gert’s magic returned.
A little deflated we hit the parks. Gert, ever the Dr. Doolittle, had a herd of ducks following her. Can ducks walk in herds? Well, they do now.
In all honesty, it was a somewhat unremarkable day. We rode Triceratops Spin, wandered through Dinoland, played in the Boneyard and ate churros in the morning. The most interesting thing that happened was when I was in line for the Churros, and older gentleman was trying to wade his way through the Dining Plan and snacks. At one point I was concerned that we’d have to get out a rubric, some software and a consultant to work out what he wanted to do. Finally, all was figured out and he started ordering everything, finishing up:
“Gimme one of them Chee-Toes and some of them Dor-eeee-Toes.” He said each word deliberately, like the cast member was not sure what was going on. She figured it out.
We headed over to Camp Minnie Mickey to meet the big guy while we bided our time for our Everest Fast Passes. Somewhere in there we shopped and picked up a monkey. Because, haven’t you always wanted a monkey. As we strolled we stopped and let my goofy daughters communicate with the animals.
While Mom rode Everest, we watched a story about why pigs are dirty. For the rest of the vacation we all yelled out “Mighty Mighty Pig!”
Mom came back from Everest with a grin on her face like she had just stolen candy. She was laughing like a maniac. Now it was my turn. I tried to convince Matilda to give up her dislike for roller coasters and ride with me, but she declined choosing, instead, to be a Pirate Princess and just look good. In fact, that was all she really wanted to do all day. Just look good. Not ride, not really do much of anything but walk, find a place about ten steps ahead to stop, turn and strike a pose. As a male, I’m not sure I understand this but I learned to accept it and not tease. Oh, as a dad I had an intense urge to tease, but I was smart and didn’t.
I rode Everest with an 8 year old girl who was a thrill junkie. She had a blast. As did I. This is now on my list of must do rides. Unfortunately, I looked for the Dream Squad when I got off the ride but, unlike Ian, no such luck. Instead, I had to ride the high of the fun I had. But, let it be known that I cursed Ian for the rest of the day. He’ll pay for his luck in October at the Anniversary meet. Oh yes, he will.
We grabbed some lunch and then headed off to Conservation Station or Earth Watch presented by Waste Management powered by GE or whatever it’s called these days. After looking at everything and playing around with some animal cameras inside (Daddy focused his on a piece of grass!).
Out in Affection Section Dr. Gertlittle was in her environment. She loves animals and wants them to love her. So these little love hounds wandering around, begging for attention were perfect for her. Matilda, meanwhile, focused in on the cow.
The cow was mooing like crazy. Loud, low, mournful. I suspected it was because she had seen a trainer and was trying, in vain, to convince the trainer to feed her. Matilda was convinced that the cow was sad and lonely. She stood there and stroked the cow, talking to it quietly. I was preparing to explain to her why we could not have a cow, nor could we get it home. She did keep telling me that it was an Irish cow. “An IRISH cow. Mr. O’Brien. An IRISH cow. A wee little cow. We could name him Guinness.”
Mom, the intrepid knitter was looking at the llama the same way a meat man would have looked at the cow as a walking steak. She was thinking about all the wool and yarn she could make. There’s a sweater. There’s a pair of socks! And, oooh, a shrug!
She knitted the entire time. You wouldn’t think a pretty, young woman would not only be obsessed with knitting, but standing in the middle of Florida in the summer, surrounded by theme park rides, going on and on about how she was working on an increase in this lace pattern that she found, rewrote and adapted. “It was originally a sweater, but I’ve turned it into an entire dress with my personal genetic code hidden in the pattern using intarsia. Giggle.”
Anyway, after Matilda didn’t save the cow and mom didn’t shave the llama we decided to just head back to the hotel. It was hot, threatening clouds were rolling in and we were just plain tired. So we headed back to the hotel.
Waiting for the bus, Gert started attacking my legs to see if she could push them up. I guess another family was doing this. Daddy let her win for a while until she said, “Come on Dad! Your legs are weak!”
Now, I’ve mentioned the cycling right? I’m a cyclist. I ride between 400 and 800 miles a month. Certainly I’m not professional racer, but I ride a lot and I’ve worked hard for these leg muscles. Plus, this is a Gert thing. Whenever she rides with me she actually taunts me, tells me how fast she can ride, how slow I am and how I’ll never be able to ride a bike as fast as she can.
She really knows how to get a cyclist’s goat.
“Oh really,” I ask. “Try now.” I actually resisted her and she started to struggle and strain to get me to bend my knee. Then the bus came.
“Oh well,” she said, “the bus is here. I win, old man.”
As god as my witness she called me “old man.” Sigh.
It poured. It poured all night. Pepper Market was crowded. Everything was crowded. We fought our way through the crowds and were able to sit and eat. We splashed in puddles and went back to the room to play with the stuff we had bought.
“Pretty good day,” I said. “Relaxing and fun.”
“Yeah,” said Mom.
“Uh huh,” said Matilda.
“Too bad I lost my magic,” said Gert.
Darn it. I clearly had work to do.
Tomorrow: Phone calls, begging, cajoling cast members, an aborted Typhoon Lagoon trip, the Boutique and Boardwalk. Oh my!