Against our better judgment, we agreed to a "quick" trip to Disney World at a very inconvenient time. We had promised, afterall, to take our family there when our son and my niece (four months apart) were five. So we kept our promise, and we made the plans. A late flight there and back on a Sunday would minimize work time missed and maximize park time. A stay at the Pop Century (review forthcoming) would put us right at the park, and in our price range.
So we began where it all began: the Magic Kingdom.
I'd never been much of a fan of the Magic Kingdom, never much a believer in magic, and much suspicious of the finger scan nececessary to use our park hopping tickets, but I promised my husband that morning that I'd leave my cynical self behind (even if the politically engaged one refused to stay at the hotel) and I was rewarded for it: My son beamed, and my daughter exclaimed "Happy!" as we moved from adventure to adventure, despite their lack of prior knowledge of Mickey or Minnie Mouse or Disney films. (That one of her favorite words is "happy" is one of our greatest joys.)
If only the Animal Kingdom had been as much a pleasure (see Part II, this week's rantotheweek, in just a bit).