These things happen. Tantrums. Moods. Or as I'm about to describe, meltdowns. They're part of parenting. Sometimes you can anticipate them, even prepare for them like an approaching thunderstorm. Then there are times when no amount of preparation can prevent the debacle that follows.
|So close. Yet so far away.|
It was day four of our whirlwind Disney adventure. After three days of non-stop, drag-your-child-to-every-possible-attraction family fun, I somehow woke up rejuvenated that morning. This would be our last day in the Magic Kingdom. And even though My Director is the one who planned most of the itinerary before and during the trip, I had decided to flex a little muscle. What can I say? I was feeling ambitious.
I seized the map of the park like a greedy pirate of the Caribbean and checked to see which "grown-up" rides Peanut was tall enough to go on. And there it was. My buried treasure: Splash Mountain, in all of its 40" minimum height requirement glory. Peanut just met the requirement. My mission was clear: ride this ride with Peanut at any and all costs because a) she's going to love it and b) I remember riding it with my parents and loving it.
|Best to keep a grumpy Peanut in a bubble.|
It's all my fault. I kept telling My Director that I wanted a memory with Peanut, just me and her. That's where I was treading in dangerous waters. Expectations can come back to bite you where the briar patch hurts the most. Besides, I was rolling the dice sending us to Tomorrow Land first. And they came up snake eyes.
We finally arrived at the foot of Splash Mountain. The wait was just a half an hour. I had timed it perfectly. There would be no other time to do this given what we had planned the rest of the trip. Peanut, having come down from the euphoria of Tomorrow Land and having just met Tinker Bell, had entered moodyville. To make matters worse, My Director wasn't feeling well either. And Peanut is an "I want mommy to go on too" kind of girl. Still, I persisted. My Director insisted. Peanut resisted. Had Peanut just waited in line with me, she would have worked herself out of her mood by the time we boarded our log.
Instead, she cried because My Director couldn't go with us. Then she refused to listen when I tried to explain how much fun we'd have and how she'd love it just like she loved the Log Flume at Great Adventure last summer. Nope. All I got was a stone-cold, furrowed-browed, thumb-in-the-mouth refusal.
|Since I took so many pictures of grumpy Peanut,|
My Director took a picture of me every time I was grumpy.
This is me hours after "Splash Mountain," still not over it.
Not my proudest moment as a parent, to say the least.
The day after we returned home, I drove Peanut to school. Her friends were so happy to see her after she had been away for five days. Some of them came rushing up to us. Knowing we were in Disney World, they immediately bombarded us with questions. The first - and last - one I fielded was from a classmate who had recently been to Disney with his family. He looked me right in the eyes with a big smile and said, "Did you go on Splash Mountain?!"
Still a little bitter from the double meltdown that occurred less than 48 hours earlier, my heart immediately sank, my smile suddenly faded, my mood totally changed, "No," I said coldly. "We didn't get to that one."
I'm over it now. Mostly. And if Peanut remembers this incident, she doesn't talk about it. She remembers the good times. That's perfect. At least we have a reason to go back.
I have more proof of Peanut only remembering the positive from our trip. You can read about it here.