By Shelby Cain
So we’re going to Disneyland. The most magical place on earth. According to their marketing department anyways. Personally, my vote would be for right here, but let’s just keep that between us. We don’t want to bring the entire world to our doorstep.
I never really thought of myself as a Disneyland type, if there is such a thing, but let me explain what happened. Several months ago a person close to us lost their partner suddenly. It was horrible and made all of us reflect on how we’re living our lives and what’s actually important. At the funeral he pulled us aside and said, “Let me give you some advice. Don’t wait for the perfect time to do anything. If you want to do something, do it. Take your kids to Disneyland. It was one of the best things we ever did with our kids.” That night we booked the trip.
I scoured the house and gathered together every reward point I’d ever earned. I had three different air-something cards, stacks of Canadian Tire money, Chapters rewards cards, even an old La Senza coupon good for a free bra. It felt like the adult equivalent of smashing my piggybank to smithereens and counting up the pennies. When I separated out the currency, we could possibly convert it to be of any use on our Disney odyssey, we had just enough. Years of buying groceries on Visa had finally paid off. With nerves buzzing in my stomach, I clicked ‘Book It’. Why is that final click always so scary? Months have gone by since that night. The girl’s anticipation has been building, although I don’t think they can actually grasp what they’re in for. At four and five years old, with a full-blown princess obsession and one epic day at Callaway Park that they’re still talking about, I think their little minds are about to be blown. Four has already packed and unpacked more times than I can count. Once it included a full glass of water, in case she gets thirsty. It wreaked havoc on the wad of toilet paper and two inches of cereal she’d shaken into her rolling penguin suitcase first. Oops. So we leave on Monday. The passports are sitting in a little pile on my desk. I could make a list of twenty incredibly valid reasons why there is no way we should be doing this right now. But it’s booked. No turning back. Five came running in my room this morning and asked me if you’re allowed to scream at Disneyland. “Yes, I think that’s allowed.” “Good, because when my heart gets really full I just have to scream. It already feels pretty full.” Best advice I ever got.
