So today, after years, indeed, decades, of dreaming about it, I finally set foot in the most tanrum-riddled happiest place on earth. It took a whole two minutes for Little Mister to set the precedent for the majority of the day.
This little whopper was over a Buzz Lightyear toy at the main entrance. A toy which, might I add, he already owns. Yes, oh yes.
Around this point I was distracted momentarily by a beautiful breeze that swept past me with such sweetness, such no-nonsense-ness, such proper British-ness, that it almost blew me off my feet. I looked. She looked. We locked eyes. Mary Freaking Poppins.
Then she ran away, leaving me to stand there stunned and trying to find my voice. I grabbed Ella’s hand, then dropped it, grabbed it again, then dropped and began running after said British nanny, who apparently was in rather a hurry to be somewhere. I snapped photos like a mad banshee, until I came to my senses, realised that not only were my photos pointless given they were all of MP’s back, but I had a still-tantruming child to deal with fifteen metres behind me and five minutes into our Disney experience there I was looking like some crazy-haired Mary Poppins stalker.
I may be mad, but no stalker am I. Haha! It’s purely coincidental, I tell you, that we bumped into her again a coupla hours later. Yes, yes. Coincidence. Stunning.
Anyway, Little Mister got over his tanty just in time to undergo Jedi Training. We’d heard about this from my good mate Penny, who told us the key was to make some signs for the kids to hold in the crowd so they could show just how keen they were and hopefully improve their chances of being picked to be part of the display. So it was armed with a sign reading “Aussie Jedi: Ready for Training!” that our kiddly-winks made their way up to bust some moves.
And I know I probably sound like any Jedi mother when I tell you that he proceeded to whip Darth Vader’s butt.
So awesome. So rocking. Such a high.
But apparently, what comes up, must come down. Continuing with the space theme, we launched our family upon the Buzz Lightyear ride and – in an ill-conceived notion to fit all five of us in the one tiny little coaster carriage (essentially like trying to squeeze all of us into two air-plane seats that are pre-stocked with a layer or two of children), I’m not proud to say that we broke the entire coaster. That’s right. Production on the Buzz Lightyear ride halted for a good six minutes. So for those of you there sitting in the neon-lit dark buzzing away without motion for that time, you’re welcome. Such is the magic of our family.
Up and running again, the ride was enjoyed by all.
Only to have us disembark – in a classic Disneyland move – straight into the merchandising area, where yet another piece of classic Buzz merchandise set off the boy’s longest tantrum ever. I’m talking well in excess of two and a half hours. No, really.
I’m sorry, are you tired of me mentioning how long this tantrum was? Because seriously, it was something else. I’m talking TWO AND A HALF HOURS. Of gems including (but not limited to):
“I WANT MY BUZZ TOY!”
and my personal favourite:
“ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS GIVE ME MY BUZZ TOY AND WE CAN GO HOME!”
What to do? We tried to reason. Nothing. We tried to ignore it. Nothing. We just went on rides anyway. Nup.
So we opted to head home early, hoping that a mid-afternoon nap, some time away from the overstimulating paradise and perhaps a swim later, we might return in better spirits. Whereupon I find myself employing some sort of blogging-type-catharsis.
To be continued…