There isn’t anything more satisfying than a child crying at Disney World. Nothing says a fun family-day-out better than a four year old screaming at the top of their lungs at the Happiest Place on Earth. All that hard-earned money spent on a vacation and all you get is a headache and dirty glares from the people around you trying to enjoy their spoiled-brat-free time.
As you’ve probably guessed, I was that spoiled brat who spent their time sobbing in a stroller. To be fair, however, I had a legitimate reason – I was petrified of the five-foot tall mouse who everyone insisted I call Mickey and his equally terrifying friends.
My parents paid for us to have a special breakfast with the cast members so we could meet all the characters without the crowds, which would excite any other child, except for me. It was as though they’d told me I’d be spending the weekend in Azkaban prison and dementors were going to suck my soul out against my will. So, like any rational child, I spent the whole morning crying and screaming, trying to hide from the scary, spirit-crushing Disney characters.
Looking back, it was probably a bit of an overreaction. Also, I’d like to mention that I can now walk around Disney without the tears and hysterics.
I don’t know what it was that scared me so much; I could still watch the cartoons without worry, but meeting them face-to-face seemed to be a whole other matter. Maybe a part of me knew that one day I’d learn the truth, just like with Santa Claus and the Tooth-Fairy, and the magic would disappear. If only I could go back and tell my younger self not to worry, because the fun of Disney never dies, no matter how old you get. My mom and I have a yearly tradition to visit Disneyland, and perhaps it’s an attempt at therapy that I’ve just never realized, but seeing others enjoying and believing in the magic is always enough.
Whether it’s Disneyland or Disney World, it’s a place to visit and become a child again. Thankfully, in my case, there are a lot less tears.