Sam, in keeping with his breeding, has become obsessed with Mickey Mouse.
To understand the gravity of this statement, you must first understand the Schultz obsession with all things Disney. I had known Husband for, let’s say, a month, when I learned he was going to Disney World with his family. “That’s so cool,” I said, “that you’re going on vacation with your family. I love Disney World!”
“Yeah,” said Husband, “Disney World is awesome.” He checked the time on his Song of the South watch. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you next week,” and turning this back, he retreated to his car, which had a Magic Kingdom magnet affixed to the back and a Mickey Mouse head impaled on the antenna. I should have seen something in that, but at the time, it was a charming quirk, some adorable quality that made him unlike any other man I’d ever known. Not what it truly was: an obsession, an illness that would overtake our life together and very quickly infect me too.
Sure, I’d been to Disney World. For one day at a time, anyway. I went to EPCOT when I was five, I think. When we went to Florida, we always spent a day in the Magic Kingdom. But until I met Husband, I’d never spent more than a day there, and I’d never stayed (gasp!) “on property.”
One day, Husband invited me home to meet his parents. I sat down at their kitchen table, and his dad handed me a cup of coffee. In a Mickey Mouse cup. Then his mother asked me if I wanted sugar in my coffee, and handed me a sugar bowl. Smiling, talking, I lifted the lid…to discover that the sugar cubes in this house were shaped like Mickey’s head. Mickey adorned everything in the house: plates, forks, the toaster…you name it, it was Mickey-fied.
Our first trip (pilgrimage?) together was less than a year after we met. We drove down together to audition for the Mouse, he as a comedian, me as a vocalist, spent the first day auditioning, and spent the entire next day in the Magic Kingdom. That’s when I knew, without a doubt in my mind, that I would spend the rest of my life with this man. And this Mouse.
Three months later, I went with his whole family to Florida. The night before we left, I couldn’t sleep. I was giddy. I had acquired the bug. As soon as we stepped through those gates, we were kids. And just like that, I understood why Husband and Husband’s family plan two years in advance for their summer vacation. It all became very clear.
When I found out I was pregnant, we counted the months, and I told Husband we would probably have to postpone our trip to Disney World. After all, Sam would only be six months old. Husband just laughed at me. “So what?” he said, “ That’s older than most babies in my family were for their first trips.”
Sure enough, Sam loved it. He loved the lights, the colors, the characters, and the Dole Whip. He had to: it was in his blood. The only hat we’ve ever been able to keep on him had mouse ears attached to it. He rode every ride that didn’t have a height restriction. And
he loved every second of it. (Well, nearly every second of it. He didn’t like Spaceship Earth.)
The most important thing to remember if you’re taking a baby to Disney World is not to push it. Let your baby dictate your schedule. If you insist on riding every ride there and adhering to a strict touring schedule, your baby will be miserable, and so will you. Take it easy. Keep your baby cool (battery-powered fans and hanging out in the shade help) and slathered in sunscreen. Take lots of pictures. Take advantage of the baby-swap option on rides (ask an employee about it). Get your baby a “My First Trip” button at Guest Relations. (Town Hall in the Magic Kingdom.) If your kid is scared of the characters, don’t force them to hug them. Next trip, maybe. Oh, and also, if you have a boy-type baby like we do, forget about trying to find any clothes for him in the parks. T
here’s enough princess stuff to fill your minivan to capacity, but if you forget to take an emergency backup outfit to the park and your boy-type child, let’s say, requires a costume change, good luck trying to find so much as a onesie anywhere but the shop in Toontown Fair. And there, it was just a onesie. A red onesie with “2008” and characters on it. And they had ONE in his size. Don’t get me wrong; he was adorable in it. But where’s the love for our boys? My advice is, if you have a boy under a year old, to go to the Target on International Drive and stock up on a couple of outfits.
Husband and I will never forget how it felt to take Sam to meet Goofy, or to watch him enjoying the SpectroMagic parade. It was wonderful to be able to give our kid that experience.
But now…a year after that trip, and a year until our next one, Sam has started showing a clear preference for Mickey. He points him out of everything from clothing to coffee mugs (he adorns every surface in our home, after all) and a few days ago, Husband brought home a Sing Along Songs video featuring Disney characters in Disneyland. Every time Mickey is on the screen, Sam squeals and points to the screen.
Maybe it’s because of how he has been raised. Maybe it’s heredity. But my kid couldn’t pick Bugs Bunny out of a lineup.
To understand the gravity of this statement, you must first understand the Schultz obsession with all things Disney. I had known Husband for, let’s say, a month, when I learned he was going to Disney World with his family. “That’s so cool,” I said, “that you’re going on vacation with your family. I love Disney World!”
“Yeah,” said Husband, “Disney World is awesome.” He checked the time on his Song of the South watch. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you next week,” and turning this back, he retreated to his car, which had a Magic Kingdom magnet affixed to the back and a Mickey Mouse head impaled on the antenna. I should have seen something in that, but at the time, it was a charming quirk, some adorable quality that made him unlike any other man I’d ever known. Not what it truly was: an obsession, an illness that would overtake our life together and very quickly infect me too.
Sure, I’d been to Disney World. For one day at a time, anyway. I went to EPCOT when I was five, I think. When we went to Florida, we always spent a day in the Magic Kingdom. But until I met Husband, I’d never spent more than a day there, and I’d never stayed (gasp!) “on property.”
One day, Husband invited me home to meet his parents. I sat down at their kitchen table, and his dad handed me a cup of coffee. In a Mickey Mouse cup. Then his mother asked me if I wanted sugar in my coffee, and handed me a sugar bowl. Smiling, talking, I lifted the lid…to discover that the sugar cubes in this house were shaped like Mickey’s head. Mickey adorned everything in the house: plates, forks, the toaster…you name it, it was Mickey-fied.
Our first trip (pilgrimage?) together was less than a year after we met. We drove down together to audition for the Mouse, he as a comedian, me as a vocalist, spent the first day auditioning, and spent the entire next day in the Magic Kingdom. That’s when I knew, without a doubt in my mind, that I would spend the rest of my life with this man. And this Mouse.
Three months later, I went with his whole family to Florida. The night before we left, I couldn’t sleep. I was giddy. I had acquired the bug. As soon as we stepped through those gates, we were kids. And just like that, I understood why Husband and Husband’s family plan two years in advance for their summer vacation. It all became very clear.
When I found out I was pregnant, we counted the months, and I told Husband we would probably have to postpone our trip to Disney World. After all, Sam would only be six months old. Husband just laughed at me. “So what?” he said, “ That’s older than most babies in my family were for their first trips.”
Sure enough, Sam loved it. He loved the lights, the colors, the characters, and the Dole Whip. He had to: it was in his blood. The only hat we’ve ever been able to keep on him had mouse ears attached to it. He rode every ride that didn’t have a height restriction. And
he loved every second of it. (Well, nearly every second of it. He didn’t like Spaceship Earth.)The most important thing to remember if you’re taking a baby to Disney World is not to push it. Let your baby dictate your schedule. If you insist on riding every ride there and adhering to a strict touring schedule, your baby will be miserable, and so will you. Take it easy. Keep your baby cool (battery-powered fans and hanging out in the shade help) and slathered in sunscreen. Take lots of pictures. Take advantage of the baby-swap option on rides (ask an employee about it). Get your baby a “My First Trip” button at Guest Relations. (Town Hall in the Magic Kingdom.) If your kid is scared of the characters, don’t force them to hug them. Next trip, maybe. Oh, and also, if you have a boy-type baby like we do, forget about trying to find any clothes for him in the parks. T
here’s enough princess stuff to fill your minivan to capacity, but if you forget to take an emergency backup outfit to the park and your boy-type child, let’s say, requires a costume change, good luck trying to find so much as a onesie anywhere but the shop in Toontown Fair. And there, it was just a onesie. A red onesie with “2008” and characters on it. And they had ONE in his size. Don’t get me wrong; he was adorable in it. But where’s the love for our boys? My advice is, if you have a boy under a year old, to go to the Target on International Drive and stock up on a couple of outfits.Husband and I will never forget how it felt to take Sam to meet Goofy, or to watch him enjoying the SpectroMagic parade. It was wonderful to be able to give our kid that experience.
But now…a year after that trip, and a year until our next one, Sam has started showing a clear preference for Mickey. He points him out of everything from clothing to coffee mugs (he adorns every surface in our home, after all) and a few days ago, Husband brought home a Sing Along Songs video featuring Disney characters in Disneyland. Every time Mickey is on the screen, Sam squeals and points to the screen.
Maybe it’s because of how he has been raised. Maybe it’s heredity. But my kid couldn’t pick Bugs Bunny out of a lineup.
You're not even here and somehow you still managed to make me laugh until my sides hurt.
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