Chapter 14: Compassionate Parenting 101
It was our last day in the parks. If my feet could talk, they would have told you that they felt like we’d been there for a month. The rest of me felt like I’d been there for…oh, about 3 days or so. I swear time speeds up on Disney property.
We managed to get ourselves up and on the bus to the Magic Kingdom in time to make it for Rope Drop. My parents would join us later, as would my brother’s family—their daughter had an important appointment that morning at the Bibbidy Bobbidy Boutique, which I was happy enough to miss out on.
All of those early mornings and long days in the heat were starting to catch up with the little guy. I was hoping we wouldn’t be spending an entire day with Captain Crankypants. Julie was hoping for the same, and also hoping Drew would be in a good mood.
We’d followed a plan of spending 3 days in the Magic Kingdom since it was Drew’s first trip. We thought that would be where he’d want to spend the most time. That was followed by 2 days at Epcot (which had been our favorite) and 1 day at the other parks. Looking back, I wish we’d had more time in Hollywood Studios and Animal Kingdom. I feel like we especially left meat on the bone at AK.
Anyway, our plan was to head straight to 7DMT as the “warm-up” ride, which suits it perfectly. But we had a FP for it later in the day, and with Drew acting grumpy, we decided to let him choose what ride we were going to do first. He chose Buzz Lightyear, which had quickly become one of his favorites. I was good with that—after all, I had unfinished business there.
As we walked through the queue, I stretched and loosened my trigger-finger muscles. I like to do this by clenching my fist and then opening it, much as one does when someone “was using the bathroom” and then “tries to re-join their family” by cutting through the standby line. I was purely focused on my mission: defeating Zurg and saving the galaxy. This is not something to be taken lightly. Once again, I ran down the list of high-value targets in my mind.
Robot’s left hand
Top of the volcano
Bottom of Zurg’s ship
Sarah was my co-pilot. I was trusting her to keep the ship steady, but she had no interest in flying and shooting at the same time. If I wanted to be a Galactic Hero, it was totally in my hands.
But once again, I was just another space cadet.
Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. At least we looked like we had fun.
Note: Dave was pretty much done with this ride. He was struggling to find the right red dot, and…well, we sometimes get competitive in this family.
We had an early FP for Space Mountain. Julie wanted no part of riding that again, so she took Drew off to Fantasyland while the big kids and I settled in for another trip through the galaxy, this time without laser cannons. Unfortunately, this time I forgot to hold my breath in the vacuum of space.
We met back up with Julie and Drew, and when I found out where they had gone, I was even more thankful for Space Mountain.
It was still early in the day and the crowds hadn’t picked up yet. We debated what to do next, and I pushed for another crack at Buzz Lightyear. The rest of the family may or may not have rolled their eyes at me. Except for Drew—he was all in.
Once again, I climbed into my fighter ship. Red-Five, standing by. I tried to block out all distractions, but my mind was cluttered with other thoughts—were the others sick of this ride? How could we be at the end of our vacation already? Would we actually see my brother today?
And then, like a light switch had been flipped, I blocked all of that out. I was suddenly in the Zone. Using The Force. Traveling to Infinity And Beyond. Mixing my Sci-fi Movie References.
I switched off my targeting computer. Headquarters radioed back to ask what was wrong, but I told them it was nothing—I was trusting my instincts on this one. I began my attack run. Zurg’s ships tried everything—full shields, chaff, evasive maneuvers, cloaking devices—but suddenly, I couldn’t miss. I could almost hear Zurg whispering to himself: “The Force is strong with this one.”
I hit the inside of the robot’s left hand.
I blew the top off the volcano.
And then, when you thought I couldn’t make any more painful movie metaphors, it was as though time slowed down and I could suddenly see The Matrix—one shot after another, laser-focused on Zurg’s spaceship.
I blasted the crap out of the bottom of Zurg’s ship.
And this was how the battle ended. Not with a bang, and not with a whimper either, but with electronic noises and blinking red numerals.
And some idiot in an Eagles t-shirt yelling like a drunked fool and raising his fists in triumph. And the poor kid next to him, who would really rather be anywhere else at this particular moment.
I didn’t bother to go get my Galactic Hero button from the CM’s. For one thing, in the two minutes after the ride was over, my family was already tired of my obnoxious celebration. And for another, a true hero doesn’t broadcast his exploits. He merely picks up his weapon and heads to the next battle. The safety of his family is his true reward.
But I have now been promoted, and no longer sit at the rank of Captain. You may refer to me as Galactic Hero Oblivious.
Is there anything else you can do to top the achievement of saving the world? Well, sure—my kids wanted to have immediate revenge on me by forcing me to ride Splash Mountain with them.
We all walked over to Frontierland together, and then the big kids and I got in line. The wait time was up to 30 minutes. Drew decided it looked too scary, so he and Julie went off to do…something. Maybe ride the train?
The kids know that I am not a huge fan of big drops, which was of course why they wanted me to ride. I am even less of a fan of being called a chicken than I am of big drops, so I went along, even though it’s not my favorite ride in the world. It actually turned out to be a 40-minute wait, which was not a ton of fun.
The ride itself is fine. I find it to be schizophrenic—ten minutes of happy woodland creatures singing happily (there’s a banjo in the song; it’s impossible to play a sad song on the banjo) and then they throw you off a cliff. It never looks that bad from the ground, but somehow from the top of the big hill it looks like it’s straight down. The part about drops that bothers me is the feeling that you’re coming out of your seat and will fall out of the boat (or whatever ride vehicle). I think this is why I like drops that go into turns, like on Expedition Everest. On that one, the centrifugal force keeps you in your seat so you don’t feel like you’re in imminent danger.
Was that too nerdy? I feel like it was too nerdy.
Anyway, I discovered that the drop bothers me less if I’m trying to think of something stupid to do for a camera pose. In this case, I figured I’d pretend like I was trying to get out of the raft, and David wanted to look like he was laughing at me. We both failed miserably, but at least it distracted me from the drop.
It was now time for our Big Thunder Mountain Railroad Fastpass. The rest of my family had joined up with us, and we got to hear all about my niece’s makeover at the castle, which she loved. Now we could all go on the ride together (which makes what, 3 in total so far?).
We were determined to get Drew on this ride somehow. We knew that if he’d just try it, he would love it. So we just grabbed his hand and got into line. We didn’t tell him what it was for.
That didn’t stop him from asking, though. “What ride is this, Mommy?” “Is this a fast ride, Mommy?”
Now, let’s take a step back. Julie and I are experienced parents. We have been doing this for 17 years now. If you combine the ages of all of our kids, we have 48 cumulative years of parenting experience and wisdom from which to draw. This is not our first rodeo, in other words.
There comes a time in every kid’s life when you must teach him or her how to confront their fears head-on. We must be honest with them, and teach them to be honest with themselves. They must learn how to take risks, lest they be doomed to life as a meek shut-in, without adventure. Now, you can do this with tact. You can learn withhold information, so you’re not technically lying to your kid, but not giving him/her the whole truth, either. You can fib just a little in order to make it a little more appealing. For example:
“What ride is this, Mommy?”
“Uh…it’s a fun one. You’ll like it.” That’s how Julie started.
“Is this a fast ride, Mommy?”
“Well…it goes slow and fast.” Again, this demonstrates nice technique with a healthy amount of vagueness. This is technically a true statement.
We continued making our way through the queue. And then the penny dropped for Drew.
“Mommy…is this the fast train ride?”
When asked a direct question like this, it demands a direct answer. Drew is a smart kid, and here he was savvy enough to eliminate any possible equivocation on the response. In essence, he was putting all of the cards on the table and demanding the truth.
Julie drew from that wealth of knowledge, hard-won over 48 cumulative years of being a Mom.
She set her pants ablaze* and bald-faced lied through her lying liar’s teeth.
(*--Note: this is a figure of speech. No pants were harmed in the making of this Trip Report.)
“Nope, this isn’t it!”
Of course, Drew discovered our deception just a few short minutes later and started to get upset, but by that time we’d passed the point of no return and were ready to get on the ride, which was of course the whole point of lying to his face. We’ll be offering online sign-ups next month for our Master’s class in Compassionate Parenting to anyone who would like to take notes.
You may have noticed that we did not maintain any consistency here. Earlier in the week, we were letting him skip rides he liked. We also forced him into 7DMT at one point. All I can say is that parenting decisions are made entirely in the moment based on their perceived needs of the child and the context at the time. In other words, we make it up as we go. Anyone who says differently is lying through their lying liar’s teeth.
So Drew fussed and complained and told us he didn’t want to ride the train, and we forced him into the seat and the lap bar down on his lap, trapping him in place. Are you still taking notes?
And then we were off.
Next, we walked over to—I’m sorry, what’s that?
Oh, you want to know what he thought of Thunder Mountain? I mean, it’s kind of anti-climactic. I was pretty much done with the story.
Ok, fine.
Big Thunder Mountain Railroad is now Drew’s MOST FAVORITIST RIDE IN THE WHOLE DISNEY WORLD. Seriously, it’s the one he talks about the most. He loved it. It’s the first one he names when we ask him what he wants to do when we go back.
So it took the whole week, but he conquered the ride.
We took the raft over to Tom Sawyer’s Island, mostly because that was the one thing in the Magic Kingdom that we hadn’t done yet. I actually really like Tom Sawyer’s Island, and I hope they never change it. It’s a source of low-tech fun that still appeals to kids after so many years of technological advancements. The appeal of the island is simply exploring—the sense of “hey, what’s around this corner?”
Is it boring for older kids and adults? By themselves, yes. But if you tell a little boy that he can climb through an old saw mill, bounce on a barrel bridge, take hidden pathways and explore a secret cave, he will never turn it down. And that will be true forever.
Coming Up Next: We finally decide to ditch the kids. And I may try to wrap this up so it’s done before we leave on our next adventure.
and we'll be there during flower and garden so we have that going for us.
The first is walking into club cool and yelling don't try the Beverly and then watching to see how many people will just because someone told them don't.
Really miss the orange grove scent as it brought back so many childhood memories. 
Aw, I'm so glad he liked it! Congratulations on not scarring your child for life.
