Elder Millennial Musings

I’ve been going to Disney World since I was a toddler. It’s just what you do when you grow up in Florida. When my husband and I moved back to Miami, one really big perk was proximity to the House of Mouse. And we figured that since we were now parents, we’d get to enjoy it in a whole new way.

And by enjoy it, I mean regret every decision we ever made that got us to that point.

The first time we went with our oldest son, he was 2 1/2 years old. To be fair, he was a perfectly average toddler who got tired by lunch time, refused to eat foods he had always enjoyed, and had a tantrum or two along the way. Normal stuff. Mostly, he was fine. Adorable, even.

But after his second diaper blow out and pushing his stroller through the intense Florida summer heat for hours, I decided it would be a while before we returned.

Cut to six years later, our 8 year old is the PERFECT age to enjoy all of the adult rides, but still get the Disney magic feels you only get when you’re a kid. We were so excited to take him again, especially to enjoy Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas Party for the first time. But what to do with our 3 year old? And why was this even an issue? Great questions.

Here’s the deal with our little one. He’s a tyrant. A small terrorist. He is moody, bossy, and extremely impatient. He will tell you what to do and where to sit and what to wear and will lose his ever loving shit if you don’t comply. He. Is. A. Monster.

But, we had nobody to leave him with, so we figured, we’d bite the bullet and bring him. Maybe he’d be distracted enough by the sparkle and joy to leave his sourness behind and have a good time.

Again, in the interest of fairness, he had pockets of fun and cuteness. He dutifully waved at all of the characters in Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas parade, and he excitedly pointed out all of the animals he recognized at Animal Kingdom. He loved all of the holiday décor and enjoyed most of the rides.

But.

He wanted every toy Disney ever sold and cried endlessly if we dared deny him. (I will forever RUE the person who put a gift shop at the exit of every attraction.)

He simply refused the concept of a line and waiting for your turn, opting instead for screaming at everyone in front of him and pushing his way to the front.

He did not nap, no matter how sleepy he was. He wouldn’t eat a meal unless it was preceded by a Mickey-shaped ice cream bar. He demanded to meet the characters, but would get afraid and run away when they got too close.

In short, he was a nightmare.

Thankfully, we had my parents with us who have that special brand of grandparent love and adoration that can withstand these incidents, but I was ready to drop him off at the lost children’s center and never look back.

I guess the lesson for you, dear reader, is that Disney magic is strong and you’ll feel compelled to recapture the magic of your youth by taking your own kids. But just know that it won’t be the same. For one, everything costs a million dollars and is controlled by a user unfriendly app. And for two, kids just suck sometimes.

Go in with low expectations, wish on every star in the galaxy that your patience will stand strong, and definitely spring for the Lightning Pass, unless the thought of a small child screaming, “Vamos!” repeatedly at increasingly higher volumes while standing in a 75 minute line sounds magical to you.