With a storm about to rage around us, Beth and I hurried down Main St.
We flew.
We ran.
We galloped.
And sprinted.
Both of our ponytails flying. In the wind. Again, a blur of white-hot happyhaunt flesh.
Sorry.
If this is dinnertime. Or supper. South of the Mason-Dixon.
We made it to the monorail. And boarded the Resorts one.
And then it came.
The skies opened up and the rain. Came down.
Hard.
We high-fived each other. Because we were still dry. AND... we were off to tea. At the Grand Floridian.
It was our chance to be classy, cultured, ladylike and proper.
Well... Beth's chance anyway.
I was a lost cause.
TFI.
We did this on our last trip. And loved it. We had the best time. Together.
She asked before this trip if we could do it again.
I said, "It would be a honour to escort you to tea, Tick Bland"!
Please don't ask about the nickname. I gave it to her when she was a baby. Because I love to nickname people I love.
And those I hate, too.
Her's was out of love. And, yet, even I can't remember the source of it.
But, that's not true. I can.
I use to call her my Teeny Tickertine. And I used to read Beatrix Potter to her. When she was a baby. She seemed to like The Tale of Pigling Bland.
As much as a baby can. Like a story.
Meaning this: She never once pooped during the reading of it.
It was a sign. To Me(l).
Anywho... her nickname became: Tickling Bland.
She hates it now. TFI.
Moving on... we took pictures of each other in the monorail car.
She took one of me that I would post but I look a little "odd". In it.
Like an ugly Donatella Versace.
Heh heh.
So, therefore, no pic. Will be posted. Here.
We arrived at our destination. Promptly.
In fact, get this, we were EARLY for our ADR at the Garden View Lounge.
Twenty minutes early.
And... we were hungry as bears. I couldn't wait to tear into a big honkin' finger sandwich.
But, first, I had a bit of a mission.
A break and entry. To be precise.
Actually, two crime(ish) were to be committed. That day.
My first mission was to check out the restaurant called Citricos. On the second floor of the Grand Floridian.
It was closed.
I knew that.
Beth didn't.
When she realized what I wanted to do she begged off. She refused to be a party to my deception.
But, not really, she said she would drive the getaway car.
If she could drive.
I told her I was POSITIVE she could drive. At least... better than my Mother.
With her outside. Only because she refused to join me. I busted in. To Citricos. Guns blazing.
Well... not really guns... it was a camera.
I took plenty of pictures. Of the empty restaurant. Just because.
I'm a foodie.
Nice. I liked it.
Then I moved on. Camera blazing. Checked the closed doors to Albert and Victoria's.
Moved in.
Silent and deadly.
Excuse me.
Too many poopcorn kernals.
If you look closely at the last one you can see the flash of my weapon.
In the mirror.
Then I left. Knowing that Victoria and Albert's is a beautiful, peaceful, tasteful dining room.
Where... I'm quite postive... I will NEVER get to eat. In.
Too bad. So sad.
Moving on.
We headed back downstairs.
And Beth took a picture of a horsey and Me(l). Because I like horsies. And, someday, would like a picture of me with a real horsie. TFI.
Then I took one of her.
Looking so grown up. Across the lobby of the Grand Floridian.
That's my girl. My Tick Bland.
And, then, we hurried off to announce ourselves. To the lady at the podium of the Garden View Lounge.
It was teatime. For 2/5 ths of the happyhaunts.
But... not quite. Yet.
We were informed we had to wait a little bit.
Okay.
What to do?
I called my Mother.
Because I am an idiot.
I called her on my cell phone. Which I had planned to keep turned off.
Ring, ring, ring.
The General: Hello.
Me: Hi there. Sir.
The General: Mel! What's wrong? Who's hurt?
Me: No one. Yet.
The General: Good. Where are you?
Me: A fancybutt place. Beth and I are going to have tea. Like ladies.
The General: Watch your mouth. (Because I didn't really say "butt") And, good luck, Mel, with THAT.
Me: Heh heh. No, listen, I was just calling because...
The General: Did you do the submarine ride, yet?
Me: Uhhhh. Well... actually... WE DID. Calvin and I did. We sure did. In a way, I guess, you could say.
The General: Good. Your father loved that ride.
Me: So did Calvin.
The General: Good.
Me: Listen up! I was just calling because Beth and I are about to do tea. A Mother and Daughter thing. Just us. Together. And I was thinking that Mother's Day is coming soon and I wish that when I was small...
The General: Are you drunk? Mel?
Me: No.
The General: Because... I don't really have time for this. I have a hair appointment in fifteen minutes.
Me: IjustwantedtosayIwasthinkingaboutyouandwishedwecouldhavedonethiswhenI wassmall.
CLICK.
I beat her to the punch. Slammed the phone closed. And was done with it.
Whew.
Then Beth and I chatted and she asked if she could borrow the camera and take a few pictures of the lobby by herself. While we were waiting.
I said... sure.
So I could watch her.
I watched her butcher some pictures. Just like her Mom. And Dad.
Not her fault. Really.
And I got thinking about this tea. Her and I.
I realized that this would be another one of our Disney experiences that I would have to file. In my memory. In a permanent file.
Disney is great for this. It gives us all many opportunties to pay attention. And appreciate our family. Our friends. And our lives. And file those memories. Permanently.
Hold tight. To them.
As I watched her I realized how quickly she had grown. Her face was the same face I saw the first minute of the first hour of the first day. Of her life.
And, yet, it was changing. Her chubby cheeks were disappearing, her eyes were getting wiser and she had teeth.
Unlike the first time I saw her.
She was growing up. Quickly. And away. From us. Her father and I.
And yet, that is our job as parents. Isn't it? To teach them how to leave us.
Leave us.
But... how do I learn, I wondered, how to let her go?
One day. In the not too distant future.
I looked at my daughter. A miniature copy of me. At that age. And realized that the greatest gift I've been given is the opportunity to share her childhood. And her two brothers.
And... then... wave them goodbye. Sorta.
I was feeling a tad. Melancholy. At that moment.
For a change.
But then she walked over to show me her pictures. She was excited.
At her mad skillz.
She had butchered about a dozen.
But... uniquely... with her own flair.
We laughed. Together.
Me and my baby.
And I filed it. That moment. Permanently.
With music:
"Baby mine, don't you cry
Baby mine, dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part, baby of mine."
To be continued. Up next: We meet Marshall. AT TEA!
And wishing she would always be this age. Then I read your trippie.
