Through A Child’s Eyes

I had been to Disney once before, back in 1999. The Missus and I had driven to Orlando to attend the rollout of the 1999 NHTSA Paramedic Curriculum. For the entire drive from Biloxi onward, every time we stopped for gas, everyone we talked to expressed incredulity at our destination.

Orlando? You DO know there’s a hurricane coming, right? They’re evacuating Florida. Disney’s gonna be closed down, dude.

As it turned out, Hurricane Floyd skirted Florida, and we indeed had the opportunity to visit Disney’s Magic Kingdom.

We were not impressed.

The Missus had been a Disney fan for years. Hell, she worshipped The Mouse. Me, I was simply along for the ride because – guys, back me up here – if the woman you’re married to desperately wants to fight the crowds and the crass commercialism and the outrageous prices to experience The Magic Of Disney(TM), you go along and pretend to like it.

That is, you do if you ever want to have sex again.

So we went, and even The Missus was disappointed. It wasn’t the crowds or even the prices. Hell, the longest line we encountered was the one to get out of the park. We had a much better time at Universal Studios. We had more fun playing Trivial Pursuit by flashlight when the power went out in the hotel.

So naturally I wasn’t all that enthused about taking KatyBeth to Disney this time around. But hey, there was an EMS conference in Orlando, and I’d be there anyway. What kind of Dad would I be if I didn’t bring my kid along to meet Mickey Mouse? Besides, KatyBeth likes tagging along on the odd occasion I get to to bring her with me to these things. She’s a hotel room and room service junkie.

What? You can make a call and someone will bring chicken nuggets and French fries right to your room? Kewl, Daddy!

The thing I was looking forward to most was introducing my daughter to my girlfriend. Disney just happened to be the venue. I could have cared less about some guy dressed up in a rat suit…

…until we got there. KatyBeth could hardly hold still on the drive to the park. She was going to see Mickey Mouse.

Through her, I got to see Disney through a child’s eyes. KatyBeth didn’t see people in costumes. There were all the characters in the cartoons she watched and the storybooks we read, right there in the flesh!

Hey Daddy, there’s Cinderella’s castle! Maybe Cinderella is home!

Daddy, do you think Mickey would mind if I crashed on his couch for a little while?

Come on Miss Barbara, let’s go ride Aladdin’s Magic Carpet!

Hey look, they made it nighttime and raining outside the Tiki Room, but when we the show was over, it was daytime and the sun was shining again! It’s magic!

Come on Miss Barbara, let’s go ride the carousel!

Like any child, she had her fussy moments, and I had to get stern with her a few times. But those times fade in the light of seeing my child enraptured by the wonder of it all, and just being a kid.

While we were there, we saw harried parents, tired kids, and heard conversations in a dozen languages. We stood in line and got sunburned. We paid exorbitant prices for food and beverages. We walked until our feet were killing us.

We also saw a man propose to his sweetheart in front of Cinderella’s castle.

Those speaking languages we couldn’t understand…they were ultimately just like us. They too had come to let their children be children, or to rediscover the kid in themselves. And they had come here, to experience something uniquely American, to do it.

Every time I hugged or kissed Babs, KatyBeth would say “Awwww, group hug!” and insist on joining in.

We saw grown people, no doubt with bills and mortgages and all the trappings that come with being an adult, sitting cross-legged on the curb and grinning with childlike wonder at the parade, just hoping Goofy would come over and shake their hand.

We saw an elderly couple, stooped and worn, holding hands as they waited patiently in line to ride It’s a Small World. And when they boarded their boat, their eyes didn’t look old at all. Neither did their smiles.

I saw a dozen college kids stay in unbearably hot costumes for an extra hour after the parade, just to make my daughter’s Disney experience memorable.

When my daughter hugged Eeyore and said, “Oh Eeyore, don’t be sad!”, there were more teary eyes in the room than mine and Babs’.

All those harried parents hoisted their tired children atop their shoulders to watch the light show parade and the fireworks, and you could watch the fatigue and worry just melt from their faces.

Best of all, I got to experience all that with the two most important girls in my life, and they enjoyed it too.

I think we may even visit Epcot and Animal Kingdom as well, next time.