The D Word
Once upon a time, I worked in a call center. One day, I spoke with a Disney executive as part of my job. I mentioned that I loved Disneyland. He asked me how old I was the first time I visited.
“Probably four or five,” I answered. “Maybe younger.”
“You’re a lifer. If we get you by the time you’re five,” he explained, “you’ll always love Disney.”
I didn’t really understand how true his words were until I met and married Dan, who was not exposed to the Disney mystique at a young age. Before Dan, I visited Disneyland an average of once every two years. In fact, my first honeymoon was at Disney World — something my first husband and I both loved. However, Dan does not share my memories nor my affection for the Happiest Place on Earth. Therefore, I have only been three times in the last ten years — twice with Dan (who was clearly humoring me) and once with my niece’s choir (because I was that desperate).
Crista, my wonderful sister-in-law, also loves Disneyland. I don’t know if she was ensnared by the “under-5, got you for life” theory or if she just shares my fondness for amusement parks in general, but she, as the wife of another Bennett, has chafed at her husband’s refusal to consider Disneyland as a viable vacation spot. About a month ago or so, we were chatting and came up with a solution: we could go to Disneyland without our stick-in-the-mud husbands! As it turns out, the brothers were pleased with this solution, so we booked our trip.
Which leads me to why I’m writing about Disneyland: I seriously can’t think of anything else right now. All the voices in my head are chanting the Mickey Mouse song as I type this. They’re going to move on to “It’s a Small World” any second now. In one sleep, as my college roommate puts it, I’m going to be in Disneyland!
I can pretty much guarantee that my next post will also be about Disneyland too. I get home on Tuesday.