Plip
Oh, bother
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2019
- Messages
- 205
The time I held my daughter back, which I mentioned above, might be my all-time favorite Disneyland memory. She was six years old. It was her second Disneyland vacation, and our first day in the park on that trip.
We arrived early, were first in line at our turnstile, and then went straight to rope drop. So we were at the very front, right at the rope, and not far from what I suppose you'd call "pole position." As we waited for that last 30 minutes, all of the anticipation of months of planning and dreaming continued to build until finally the cast members and the crowd counted down the last ten seconds.
The rope dropped and we started for Peter Pan. I'm tall and have a large stride, so I can cover a lot of ground when I "walk with a purpose." Even so, my daughter would have gone faster. So here I was, striding out and firmly hanging on to my daughter's hand, keeping her just within what I thought was a reasonable interpretation of "Don't run!" She was in front of me, leaning toward Peter Pan, pulling me across the bridge and through the castle, as fast as I would let her go.
And in the middle of all of this, she looked back at me, not as if to say, "Hurry up, Dad," but just with an expression of sheer Disney joy. That is the moment. That is why I go to Disney. More than any of the thrills or the charm of the attractions. More than the food or the spectacle or the entertainment. That is the magic.
We weren't first in line for Peter Pan that morning. I honestly don't remember if we were fifth or thirtieth. It didn't matter. Nothing could spoil that moment.
We arrived early, were first in line at our turnstile, and then went straight to rope drop. So we were at the very front, right at the rope, and not far from what I suppose you'd call "pole position." As we waited for that last 30 minutes, all of the anticipation of months of planning and dreaming continued to build until finally the cast members and the crowd counted down the last ten seconds.
The rope dropped and we started for Peter Pan. I'm tall and have a large stride, so I can cover a lot of ground when I "walk with a purpose." Even so, my daughter would have gone faster. So here I was, striding out and firmly hanging on to my daughter's hand, keeping her just within what I thought was a reasonable interpretation of "Don't run!" She was in front of me, leaning toward Peter Pan, pulling me across the bridge and through the castle, as fast as I would let her go.
And in the middle of all of this, she looked back at me, not as if to say, "Hurry up, Dad," but just with an expression of sheer Disney joy. That is the moment. That is why I go to Disney. More than any of the thrills or the charm of the attractions. More than the food or the spectacle or the entertainment. That is the magic.
We weren't first in line for Peter Pan that morning. I honestly don't remember if we were fifth or thirtieth. It didn't matter. Nothing could spoil that moment.
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