There is something magical about this vacation.
And it’s not just the allure of the cartoon characters come to life, the princesses in their glittery ball gowns, or the ability of a $20 bill to disappear quicker than you can say “abracadabra.” Those things are all magical.
I’m not just talking about the commercial, Disney type of magic.
I’m talking about the things you can’t quantify by tickets, astronomically high prices or wait times in horrendously long lines.
There is the magic in spending quality time with just our daughter. And seeing it all through her eyes.
There is magic in seeing her joy and amazement in little things I used to take for granted when I traveled. Flight attendants serving pop from beverage carts – and they even let you keep the whole can! Mini bottles of lotion in the hotel bathroom. Pop machines and ice dispensers on every floor. Eating room service in bed, and not worrying about spilling anything on the covers.
There is magic in 5 hour plane rides where the only things to do are to watch “The Princess Bride,” read countless Shel Silverstein poems and ponder the big questions in life. Questions like “where does the poop go when you flush on a plane?”
There is magic in watching her ride on Jay’s shoulders, her sticky little blue fingers running through his hair over his head. She beams as she clutches a bag of cotton candy. For the first time in a long time, she doesn’t have to share it with anyone.
There is magic about floating in the pool with my daughter… her tiny hands clutched around my neck as she makes big wet splashes with her feet. “I’m swimming!” she exclaims excitedly. And I let her think she is.
There is magic in the anticipation of taking my child to a place my husband and I had such vivid memories of when we were little. He will do the teacups with her, so that I don’t blow chunks. But Bobo and I will rock “It’s a Small World” by ourselves. And, later, we’ll all yo-yo-ho with the Pirates of the Caribbean.
There is magic in having to put the proverbial beat down on my daughter because, the night before, she is too excited to stay in bed. There is a tingle in the air, and we can all feel it. I’m having trouble falling asleep, myself.
The three of us… crammed into a tiny, cluttered hotel room together… trying to drift off to sleep together. The last time we all slept in the same room was when she was less than a week old.
Tonight, I watched her twirl a lock of her hair between her fingers as her eyes slowly closed shut. I heard her breathing become slower and more rhythmic, interrupted only by the sporadic sounds of her thumb sucking. The thumb sucking finally stopped, and she finally fell asleep, exhausted. No doubt dreaming about tomorrow, and the Magic Kingdom.
Tomorrow, we will spin. And ride. And laugh. And, hopefully, not blow chunks.
It will be magic.
And I can’t wait.