So we have returned from our lovely and magical
(it is the law there, you know)
spring holiday trip to Disney World.
All of us love it there -
I think they may pump extra oxygen or maybe Tinkerbell is actually throwing something magically potent in the air -
And though this year, for the first year,
V wanted to ride the gnarliest of the roller coasters,
while Matt is still nostalgically getting us fast passes for the Winnie The Pooh ride -
(Note: That ride rules even still. There are Heffalumps in tutus.)
And height requirements don't apply to even the youngest of us,
so we mourn the loss of that being a restriction,
while also celebrating the lack of said restriction.
Bittersweet.
But we are at Disney, is happy magic place.
Proof:
Get this?
There are Starbucks there now!!!!!!!!
That was my idea years ago and I hope I get credit or stock.
I have grumped about the lack of my Starbucks tea for years,
ask anyone.
The sight of a Starbucks logo discreetly mingling in with other beverage opportunities is a joy, worthy of a parade.
Good thing we are at Disney!
They have parades, like, every half hour.
And we have family traditions we do every year at Disney,
gleeful, kind of weird traditions we love,
like taking pictures while twirling rapidly and trying not to throw up on the tea cups ride,
saying hey to Nemo,
riding this bizarre tram at Epcot that talks about hydroponic vegetable and fish
(I am not making that up, I wish I was,
I hate that stupid tram. We all hate it, I think,
but it is absurd and strange and therefore, Tradition)
And death match family throw-down on the Buzz Lightyear ride tradition.
Much to my dismay,
the entire time we were in line this year,
the girls were lobbying for the teams
(we have to divide into two teams, every year the same teams, Tradition!)
to be switched up, and be divided as such:
M and a sister and Matt, not me
E (little traitor, we always ride this together,
and totally aim the gun laser thing at each other or backwards,
it is fun! Tradition!) and a sister and Matt, not me
V and a sister and Matt, not me.
A theme emerges.
A theme of ingrates treating me like Worst Laser Or Whatever Team Member Ever.
And fine.
Maybe that's true.
It is.
But it doesn't matter,
there aren't actual weird squatty aliens or things I don't know what,
that we have to laser to save Infinity and Beyond.
And I can HEAR THEM, I remind the girls,
as they all try to foist me off onto someone who is not them.
But we are at Disney!
All gets resolved.
My team doesn't win.
I don't care, either.
That may be part of the problem -
And another grand tradition is Small World,
as many times as we can when it gets late and there is no line and nobody can overhear me say gruesome things and terrify children.
That last part has been an add-on to the original tradition of riding Small World and watching the happy robot children sing.
Because now, whoever gets to sit by me has to hear about wild dogs eating babies.
Tradition!
Because I am an idiot.
Backstory:
The Dingo ate WHAT??? How To Ruin Disney World, by Allison:
This went down last Spring.
So we had excellent trip to Disney World,
and again?
I am fairly sure it is impossible to be melancholy, or even slightly less than super happy.
They make it so.
Is magic.
However, in case you want to throw some horrifying,
inappropriate, half-remembered Meryl Streep-doing-an-accent in with the Fun,
just invite me along.
It seems I wreak havoc wherever I go.
Even on It's A Small World.
At Disney World.
Happy animatronic poppets singing about unity and world peace?
Or, "The dingo ate my baby!!!"
I was on It's A Small World boat, sitting next to E,
known Information-Seeker and Exposer of My Misdeeds.
Matt and the other two were safely seated behind us,
watching the happy robot children sing.
We all love the Small World ride and go on it repeatedly when at Disney,
since it is both insane and awesome, two of our favorite things. Traditions!!
This particular Small World scandale went down on our first night of vacation,
so maybe I was tired.
Punchy.
Something.
Anyway, as our boat of Happy took us into Australia and such,
E asked me what kind of dog is next to the boy with the boomerang.
It's a dingo, of course.
I know this, thanks to Meryl Streep.
That's all I know,
since I apparently did NOT know how to keep my big mouth shut and tell my daughter that the dog was a lab mix.
I instead mushed on with the following awful conversation:
Horrible True Crimes Committed By Dingoes And Society, By Allison.
The extent of my dingo knowledge is "The Dingo Ate My Baby" movie,
the one where Meryl Streep wears horrible black bowl cut wig,
does a very good Australian accent, and plays tormented mother of aforementioned baby.
And because I was and remain an idiot,
I chose to try to explain the true story dingo-baby movie to E,
who immediately is like "What? That dog ate a lady's baby?"
And then I decided it is important to clarify,
by saying that the dingo was a wild dog that was not as cute as that robot one,
and that the mother of the baby was falsely accused of infanticide,
partly because she did not cry enough,
she seemed mad and grumpy and not sad and weepy,
and people chose to believe she was bad and had killed her own baby. . .
And then I realized, I am a total, complete moron digging giant hole for myself,
and I cannot wriggle out of this conversation,
being held while Happy Robots From All Over The Small World sing.
I can ruin anything.
And I tried to explain to E what I took away from the movie/true story,
other than "the dingo ate my baby" pop culture reference,
was how first impressions sometimes are ruinous,
and the justice system did not work in this case,
and after a number of years the lady was proven right, and set free, . . .
but it is not a happy story, at ALL.
And we were at Disney World,
where the happy is just raining down on us,
unless I choose to put up an Umbrella Of Awful.
Which I totally did.
Big Giant Umbrella Of Ruining The Fun, Thanks Mom, Now I Will Have Nightmares.
And E was indignant, wanted to know did everything turn out OK?
She wanted to know did they just unlock the jail and say, "Sorry" to the lady when they found out the dingo did eat the baby,
and also why did the dingo eat the baby,
and also why was I watching a movie about this?
And I was all, "E look, we're in Holland, there are ducks!"
And she was all, "Not buying it.
Tell me more about the horrible terrible story involving babies and dingos and grumpy mothers in jail."
And I was all, "I am very glad that family in front of us cannot hear me right now,
or I'd get us thrown out of the Happiest Place On Earth."
But E and I did have a cool talk about not making snap judgments about people based on how you think they should act
(She tried to get in a "Sometimes a temper tantrum is OK" here, but I blocked that one, am not total amateur),
about how sometimes what seems like the right answer is not right,
and how we are never going camping in Australia.
And as we departed the ride,
I turned to Matt and was all "Could you hear what we were talking about?"
And he was all, "Nooo?"
And E was all, "Dad, do you know what a dingo is?"
And I was all, "Who wants to go to the tea cups????"
And luckily, tea cup ride is another tradition,
in which Matt takes progressively funnier photos of the girls as the tea cups whirl around,
and one ride's disaster was dodged as we rushed off to take embarrassing pictures of each other.
Fairly benign snarky silliness at tea cups,
no scary true-life crime stories at ALL.
Did not even talk about the Boston Tea Party,
or even complain about no Starbucks at Disney.
(Which? Honestly, that seemed like a win-win to me, seriously.
And Note:
I was right, it is a brilliant idea,
and now there is lovely Starbucks tea everywhere and everyone is even happier!
Is magic. Also, I am always right, really.)
Dodged a cloning debate when we got to renovated Fantasyland and there are now two Dumbo rides instead of one.
Exact same, just two, and I almost started a whole thing on cloning and whatever happened to that Dolly the cloned sheep?
But I did not!!!
Hurray! I remembered to STOP TALKING!
Is magical place, after all.
So magical that my Horrible True Crimes Committed by Dingoes and Society speech, given on Small World ride, is a new tradition!
The girls get to rotate which one of them is the lucky winner of Dingo Debate.
I am totally better at that than stupid Buzz Lightyear ride.
I wish they gave scores for Most Inappropriate Topic Please Stop We Are Happy Here Talks on the Small World ride, that would rule.
But no worries. I have my tea.
There are parades!
I am not sure if they are all centered around Starbucks and Disney finally getting their act together, but that was what I was celebrating.
There are fireworks!
And Towers of Terror I have to ride now that V is old enough to drag me along.
But that was better than the Rock and Roll roller coaster.
The whole line is worrying about whether the ride is scary or not,
and I am worrying about the music.
And whether there is an animatronic Steven Tyler.
I was crossing my fingers, "Please, no robot singing Steven Tyler.
Please, please, don't let them play that song from Armageddon."
And hurray!
No Armageddon ballads on the roller coaster!
Only a holograph of Steven Tyler.
I mean, that is not ideal, but no robots!
Is magical place, after all.
