Finally, after many years of hearing about it, visualizing the experience, and talking about it, my family and I went to Disneyworld yesterday.
Upon entering Magic Kingdom, we were greeted by a terrific parade of Disney characters dancing to Hannah Montana tunes. The sight of the castle was exactly as I had imagine it: breathtaking, beautiful, spectacular. They don’t call it Magic Kingdom for nothing.
However – and you knew there was going to be a ‘however’ because really, would I write an entire post full of warm fuzzies. Nope…
…So… however, from what I witnessed during my 8 hours there, the magic in this kingdom must turn otherwise loving gentle mothers (let’s just pretend) into raging lunatics. I have never seen so many moms losing it on their kids in one place. If social services got paid per case, they’d have a fucken hayday prowling the Disneyworld parks.
Waiting in line to meet the Disney Princesses, I watched a mother tell her three year old, who was prancing up and down with her knees glued together, that she could not go to the bathroom because they would lose their spot in line.
Said little girl had her hair slicked back in glittery goo, done up in a tightly wound chignon with matching fantastical curly hairpiece that fell to the middle of her back. Her face was covered in Disney-esque makeup to make her appear as, what I could only assume was Cinderella, the Toddler Years. She was donning a flowing, diamond encrusted gown. And of course, on top of her pretty little plastic head was a tiara, probably donated by Donald Trump himself.
She was very cute, I’ll give her that, even if her costume was worth more than my house.
But she had to pee.
I watched, fascinated, that the mother was willing to go through all this time, effort, and money to give her daughter this fantastic experience, have her meet Sleeping Beauty, Belle, and Cinderella, have her captured on film by the Disney photographers, but…BUT to have her daughter be the only royalty in the photo with a big pee stain down the front of her million dollar ball gown.
I turned to the mother and said, “Take your daughter to the bathroom, I’ll save your spot in line.”
Crazy fucken psycho princess-in-training’s mother gives me the once over, and perhaps because I wasn’t wearing a ball gown and must have looked fishy as a result of this, replied, “No, that’s ok.”
I should amend here though, and mention, that shortly after refusing my offer, she said, “Would you mind?” and before I could say anything, anything like, “Well, DUH, of course I wouldn’t mind, I just said that didn’t I?” princess-in-training’s mother flies through the throng of other children, dragging princess-in-training behind her.