It was brought to my attention (by one Mr. Smith) that I neglected to post any photos of our children at Disneyland. It was unintentional, despite the accusation that I did not post any of the photos because I am not the biggest fan of the place.
I would like to state, for the record, that I do in fact hate the place, but that had nothing to do with the lack of photos. I was just too distracted by the rampant freakery on display that day and since I am The Forgetter, I plum forgot. It is what I do.
In the interest of full disclosure, my children do like it there and I am weak and I will continue to take them there despite my deep misgivings about the whole affair.
It has taken a solid four years, but Grand Master H is finally starting to get the idea. Famous Baby C is more of an observer and is happy to just hang out and eat Goldfish.
My favorite part of this? That he is genuinely surprised that he was hit by a jet of water. As if he failed to notice the soaking wet children all around him, not to mention the geysers of water bursting out of the ground all around him.
Also, he immediately demanded we go home because his shirt (he made it at school) was drenched. Luckily, I was able to talk him out of leaving since Mr. Smith was about 30 minutes into his 60+ minute wait in line for The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror that Grand Master H had insisted he had to go on before we could leave.
Earlier in the day, Grand Master H and Mr. Smith took a little raft ride over to Tom Sawyer’s Island and had a great time pretending to be pirates.
Meanwhile, Famous Baby C and I waited in line FOREVER to ride Dumbo. She was a total rock star and never complained. When we finally got up in the elephant, she exclaimed, “Just look at the view from up here!”
She is almost completely fearless when it comes to rides. She always has been. She just loves being whirled around and feeling the wind in her hair.
And then we hung out by the merry-go-round and watched the passing parade of humanity for a while. That was entertaining and frightening at the same time.
And then it was off for lunch with Mr. Smith and Grand Master H. I had a pretty big anxiety attack because the crushing crowds and Disney’s overwhelming need to have a goddamn parade every few minutes that shuts down access to sections of the park. My favorite part is the asshat “cast members” with giant orange relay race batons, herding the cattle “guests” from one location to the other.
Eventually we found them. Grand Master H had macaroni and cheese and then starting eyeballing Mr. Smith’s sourdough bowl of clam chowder. After inhaling his own food, Grand Master H requested another serving of macaroni and cheese. While Mr. Smith was absent, Grand Master H tucked into Mr. Smith’s unguarded bread bowl and went to town.
Despite being a one man crime wave, he doesn’t even look the least bit guilty, does he?
We call him Baby Face H, Food Thief.
By the way, Disneyland appears to have the best seedless red grapes I have ever tasted and that is not the Xanax talking. They really are that good. Not worth suffering through that dump, but really good.
Here is Grand Master H waiting to take delivery of his Disneyland Cinnamon Roll that is approximately the size of his head.
Here is Famous Baby C wishing she wasn’t still stuck at Disneyland.
And here is Grand Master H passed out (before we even got out of the parking garage, by the way) with his giant cinnamon roll in his lap. And yes, he is sleeping sitting on his hands. I have no idea.
And so, that is how we travel. Sound asleep, sitting on our hands with a giant cinnamon roll in our laps.
Welcome to my world.