In case you hadn’t heard, we spent last week in Florida, attending to Disneything. Myself, Christine, our two young ladies and mother-in-law, running around and doing many of the many things. Given the Covid-era, as Christine says, we hadn’t a family trip beyond our big July drive [see my report on such here] that our young ladies can even recall (three years in the house, after all, and we haven't been even to father-in-law's condo in Boca Raton since Rose was a toddler), and apparently Disneything is an important part of Christine’s own childhood, having made their way there repeatedly. Christine was also worried about our young ladies aging out of making the trip worthwhile. And so, we are here.
this is not our first time. Do you recall when we went there as part of that last Boca
Raton jaunt back in 2015? (I know Rose doesn’t.) [see my report on such here]
remember when we were down there?]. Naturally, Rose managed to get white sugar everywhere (and yes, they were shaped like Mickey Mouse, as they should be).
I insisted on catching the Hall of Presidents, also, before we left the park. There was considerable resistance by the adults in our group, but it was better than we might have thought. Odd, the whole thing of it. What are the stories we tell ourselves of ourselves?
And then leaving the park at 5pm to get back to the resort to pick up the car and our stuff to drop the car off at the airport and catch our 9pm flight home. A bit of chaos, that. And the smallest one barfed a couple of times right at the moment we were entering security (she was fine in the end, but it made the whole experience askew). Both kids slept on the plane. I did, also.