The Happiest Place on Earth — Sort of

We pulled in from Disneyland this morning just before 2 a.m. Needless to say, the whole group is dragging a bit today.


But Mommy’s putting on her big girl panties and dealing with it. Especially since I’m not the one who had to get up and go to work this morning instead of riding the kids’ 14-hour sleep train into the station.


As Hubby likes to say, “There’s tired and then there’s fun-tired. You’re not allowed to complain if you’re fun-tired.”


So, I’m not complaining, I’m simply stating, that if this is just the first week of our action packed fun filled summer – I’m gonna need another set of big girl panties.


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It was embarrassing, really.


There we were in a long, snaking line surrounded by 50,000 of my closest friends who also thought this would be a good week to hit Disneyland before the rest of the kids in the country got out of school. (note: This theory was proven false by every kid in Los Angeles still in school coming to Disneyland for their end of the year parties.)


The wailing started quietly, but then quickly reached a higher, more fevered pitch.


Big alligator tears soon followed with dramatic sobbing. “Please! Please don’t make me go on this ride again! I really, really, really don’t want to! Please don’t make me!”


If you’re guessing it’s me trying to avoid the spinning nauseousness of the Teacups for the umpteenth time, I nearly came to that.


No, this mortifying scene of child abuse was my own 7 year old daughter, obviously being dragged against her will, onto Thunder Mountain Railroad.


My normally fearless, daring, rough tough cream puff who rolls with just about anything her 8 year old brother throws at her, had ridden the whip-fast roller coaster the previous day and seemed okay with it. I mean, we knew she didn’t love it, but she had given it a half thumbs-up.


Before we got in line we had mistakenly thought she was willing to take one for the team so the whole family could ride it together instead of someone having to sit out with her.


Boy were we wrong. With condemning eyes glaring at us, Hubby quickly volunteered to sit it out.

After that we had to reevaluate every ride we had talked Baby Girl into or contemplated dragging her on so the adults could get their kicks at Disneyland too.


To undo the traumatizing we adults stuck our pouting lips back in and accepted the modified Disneyland plan of attack for Baby Girl who just wasn’t ready for big kid rides yet.


The Winnie the Pooh ride replaced Splash Mountain.


Autotopia replaced Space Mountain.


The Golden Zephyr replaced California Screamin’ over on the California Adventure side.


Watching people get soaked by the Grizzly Rapids replaced getting soaked on Grizzly Rapids.


And the biggest injustice was the Teacups replacing the Matterhorn.


The fabulous Soaring Over California ride was where we drew the line though. When Baby Girl’s waterworks started both Hubby and I turned to her and snapped, “Suck it up kid. It’s just a ride.”


Then we promised to take her on Turtle Talk with Crush again if she didn’t turn us into CPS.

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