It’s a Small World

Does it get any better?

Does it get any better?

Things we enjoy we find ourselves doing over and over repeatedly during our lifetime, so I guess it should be a surprise to no one that I once again find myself about to click the button on the Disneyworld site that has me buying a larger than life Disney vacation package for five. To be fair the deals that abound these last few months are too good to be true. Rooms at the resorts (value, medium and deluxe) are dirt cheap and meal plans they are basically giving away. So what’s to stop someone looking for a mind blowing bargain at the happiest place on earth? Well there is that pesky matter of private school tuition for three kids and the money it costs to keep them in sports and boy and girl  scouts, oh and then there is the very vital six weeks of camp that has come to be mandatory during our summer vacations.  Don’t forget the outings to the beach condo that now run upwards of three thousand dollars for a week’s stay not to mention the hundred dollar trips to the movie theater (three kids, plus friends, plus popcorn and sodas) and every outing during the year.

It’s easy to forget all the nonsense that adds up to mountains of wasted currency and a financial future laid to waste.  My last trip to Target had me so woozy with buyers high that I forgot I went in for ankle socks and came out with four unmatched decorative trinkets, scrap booking paper,  a large glass vase and three holiday themed snow globes.

Ahh, but I digress. Back to my potential trip to the happiest place on earth.  I worry that my drive to repeat this fun filled trip ad nauseum is an attempt to continually re-live wondrous childhood memories associated with Mickey and company. I mean, Space Mountain is not the fastest, scariest or longest thrill ride out there, but we never fail to get goosebumps on line waiting to board. We know the animatronic swashbucklers from Pirates of the Caribbean aren’t going to jump forth brandishing weaponry and board our boat for looting purposes but we manage to suspend disbelief for those ten minutes to prolong the magic.  If you ask me why I weep with joy listening to hundreds of multicultural dolls sing about how small this world really is, I won’t be able to tell you.  All I know is that everyone loves to be a kid again and no where else brings that to the surface as effectively as Walt does.  So I will ride my monorail, watch my fireworks and delay my retirement another ten years or so just to get a small taste of what Disney is serving in heaping platters. Pure unadulterated fun.

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