Return from the Laughing Spot

Whit Honea, you just spent 4 days at Disneyland! What are you going to do now?

Um, go back to my crappy life I guess.

Except that my life isn’t all that crappy, despite it being just like this article that Phil sent me. Basically, I’ll be dead by Tuesday.

Actually, my situation is even harder than those mentioned in the article, minus the death part, due to the fact that I have two kids to care for the entire time that I’m working- and I won’t even go into my bracket. Save your pity, send cash.

It’s easy to get caught up in our own drama and forget that other people have actual problems. Sometimes reality sets in and I’m humbled or ashamed or drunk. Other times I just let my shit pile up until it topples like turd Jenga. I won’t apologize for it, though I should. I won’t because it is a fault that most of us share and I don’t want to guilt you into doing likewise. We all make amends at some point. Most of us.

So we were at Disneyland and it was good. I had my laptop and meant to get some work done, but decided to spend time with my family instead. That doesn’t mean that my mind didn’t wander to ideas for The Disney Blog, or that I didn’t spend our nights of early retirement sipping wine and reading about a rebel child’s journey to rebel mom. I almost walked a step out of my way when I overheard someone say that Ben Stiller was there, but chose some private time with Stitch and Minnie Mouse instead. It’s all about priorities.

Which leads me to the problem with Disneyland: Children. As you know, I love kids. I have a couple myself. I love Disney, that’s why I just sold a freaking kidney to take said brats kids there. The problem with kids at Disneyland is that they are over it. They are over-stimulated, over-exhausted, over-hyped on sugar and over the collective last nerve of all parents within a two park radius. Of course they make up for this by being so full of cuteness, awe and magic that we tend to forget how tempted we were to leave them with Stramboli just moments before.

The trouble comes from the fact that they are so wrapped up in their own experience that they forget they are just the best part of a team. They forget that their parents also love Disneyland and would be all sorts of happy to share everything with them if they could only manage to ask without screams and tears. It’s not like people take their children to Disneyland to showcase their own ability to discipline and threaten them in front of winding queues filled with impressed parents making mental notes. That’s what soccer is for.

I’m not even talking about my kids, per se. They were excellent about 90% of the time, which is honor roll material. I’m talking about the idea that is kid and all that it implies. I’m sure your kids are great, too.

Regardless, we’re home and we’re broke and we’re tired. Life is normal and it’s all good. Relatively.

Oh, did I mention that my children were eaten by Pluto and Goofy, respectively. The ride home sure was quiet.

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