Prospector Dances & Brazilians in Leggings

February 16, 2014.Reading time 4 minutes.

I am typing this on the last day of our vacation to the place where the mouse takes all your money. We saved, scrimped, used Christmas presents and Visa points…and now its just about gone. But it has been a fantastic trip. So why, you might ask, am I wasting time blogging on our last day?

We have come here a handful of times, and when our children were napping ages, we never went to our room for a break. We just powered through and let them crash at night. It seems the teenagers can’t do that. So during the crowded afternoon hours, we’ve been coming back to the room and napping. Only I don’t nap well – I stare at the ceiling.

They have these things now called, “Extra Magic Hours”! These hours are great for our night-owlish kids because most people leave the park around ten and they stay open until 1 am (or 3 am tonight). But they are deadly for middle-aged men. At about 11 my mind can no longer focus on much and at midnight, I get all swimy-headed, which makes some of the wilder rides more like acid trips complete with delusions like Dumbo’s elephants on parade. But it’s all good. We’re having a wonderful time and I wish it didn’t have to end.

Random observations:

1. I love multicultural experiences. I really do. I love seeing the name tags here and talking to people from around the world. If you have ever come here in winter, you know that it is summer in South America and the parks are filled with Brazilians. They fascinate me because it is hard to tell an American from a Brazilian by quick glance. Sometimes you have to get close enough to hear if they are speaking Portuguese or English. Often, the leggings give it away. The South Americans we have seen have fully embraced leggings and yoga pants, and unfortunately, it isn’t always confined to women. I don’t think that is a particularly good look for me, so I’m hoping that style trend doesn’t cross the gender line north of the equator.

2. At the end of It’s a Small World, they wish you good-bye in many languages. One of them is Arabic and the word is written: Ma’assalama. For the immature, it really stands out as a fine way to wish someone well in their journeys. I’ve used it many times to the embarrassment of the girls and confused stares of my fellow park-hoppers.

3. The prospectors dance is real gold!

In one of the late, swimmy-headed hours, I did this little jig at Thunder Mountain Railroad and my kids decided I had to do it on command for them. I’ve done it pretty much everywhere now. In fact, at Dance Time with the Incredibles, I got Mr. Incredible to join me, but Frozone was too cool for it. Oh well, he was wearing blue leggings anyway.

Back to the real world tomorrow, but I’m about to wake them up for some extra magic. I love these ladies!

A Valentine’s Day Dilemma

February 13, 2014.Reading time 5 minutes.

“Henry, what’s the matter, boy?” George Lee asked his son. “You’ve got that stress face your mother and I worry about.”

Henry quickly scrambled to cover the red and white clipped paper on his desk. When he looked up and met his father’s gaze, he found a measure of comfort in his concern. “Teacher gave us an awful assignment, and I don’t wanna do it.”

George chuckled, “I’ve never seen you shy away from anything too hard. What is it? Math? History? I can help you with those. If it’s writing your mother or Dorothy would be a better help.”

“It isn’t any of those.”

“Well, what is it then, son?”

Henry looked around to see if either of his sisters or mother were within earshot. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell his father what he had to do, but knew the man was going to pull it out of him somehow. Reluctantly, he answered, “I gotta make a card for someone. A Valentine’s Day card. And it’s awful.”

George Lee started to laugh, but noting the angst in his boy’s eyes, he caught himself and took a seat beside his boy. “Here now,” he said. “That doesn’t sound so bad. You used to love to make pictures and such.”

“It ain’t the making that’s so bad,” Henry lamented. “It’s the giving.”

“Well, what’s Virgil going to do?” George asked before pondering the question. He typically wouldn’t use Virgil Creech for any sort of standard of behavior.

“Aww, he’s sweet on that old Esther Haywood. So he’s got all kinda big plans about making something for her,” Henry explained. “Said he might even put a quarter in his card so she can take him to a picture show.”

Again, George stifled a smile. His boy was on the cusp of the wonderfully tragic discovery of girls, but obviously not there yet. “Didn’t he get in trouble for putting a cockroach in her hair last week?” he asked. “God help the poor girl Virgil sets his sights on.”

Henry laughed and the tension in his face eased somewhat.

“Isn’t there any girl you think is just okay?” George asked.

Henry thought for a moment. “There’s Abigail Jacobs. She’s not too bad.”

“There!” proclaimed George. “Make it for her.”

“She’ll slug me if I make it for her,” Henry said. “She already warned us if she got anything from us boys, something bad was gonna happen.”

“Well son, I’m out of ideas,” George said as he rose to go. “Surely you can come up with someone.”

“Dad, what did you get for Mother?” Henry asked, only to watch his father turned as white as the paper on the desk.

“I completely forgot,” George said vacantly. “And the stores are closed now… Oh, tomorrow’s not going to be pretty.”

George left his son alone and spent the duration of the evening plotting his own plan to stay out of trouble, while Henry finally finished his work.

In the morning, George came into the kitchen to see his wife cleaning up after the children’s breakfast. Instead of the reception he dreaded, he found himself met with a very loving embrace.

“George Lee,” Harriet gushed. “Of all the sweetest, most wonderful husbands, I do believe you are the best.”

As she squeezed the shocked man once more, he noticed over her shoulder a colorful card made of the very paper he had seen on his son’s desk. He couldn’t make out the words but he knew that Henry had not only found someone to make a card for, but saved his father’s hide in the process.