The Happiest (Scariest) Place on Earth
With summer rapidly approaching and our annual passes about to enter the dreaded blackout period, I decided yesterday was the perfect day for Wito and I to spend some mother/son time at Disneyland. We did our usual half-day route – Autopia, train, popcorn, Toontown, corndog, Autopia – but decided to step our ol’ routine up a notch. While walking through Tomorrowland, Wito informed me that since he was 4 and THREE-QUARTERS, he was ready to tackle Space Mountain.
This truly caught me off guard because Wito, just like his mother, is not really into new and/or foreign experiences without major planning (and discussion) beforehand. We like to be prepared, you see. This inherited trait coupled with his general abhorrence of loud noises and freaky darkness had me a little worried, but hey! Type B+ mom is in effect! LET’S DO THIS, KID.
While we snaked through the line, Wito seemed to be perfectly fine with the darkness, lights, noises, and was quite enamored with the gigantic rocket hanging from the ceiling. As he boarded our rocket with a huge smile on his face and a death grip on my hand, I said a little prayer that he please not lose his ever-loving mind.
I’m pretty sure this depicts someone internally losing their ever-loving mind. Crouched in near fetal position while gripping my forearm and hand with every ounce of his strength, the kid might have been a little caught off guard. Yep. He’s scarred for life. Space Mountain therapy, here we come.
However, I can’t stop laughing at this photo. For one, please take a gander at the joy in everyone else’s face. WHEEEEEEE! Space Mountain is the GREATEST! And then look at me, fighting a little known force called GRAVITY (do you see those tendons and muscles in my neck? ) in an attempt to convince him that this ride is FUN and WE’RE FLYING THROUGH SPACE and DID I MENTION FUN, WITO? WHEEEEEE! Uh, wheeeeee? I think I may have heard him repeatedly pleading for the ride to end, but who knows with all that whooshing and flying and whiplash going on. (Speaking of whiplash, I can’t move today, thanks to Wito’s not-so-great Autopia steering skills.)
As we pulled to a stop and disembarked, he was uncharacteristically silent. We walked up the exit ramp, and I tentatively asked him what he thought. He paused, looked at me, and said, “THAT WAS THE GREATEST RIDE EVER! LET’S GO AGAIN RIGHT NOW!!! Well, there you have it. My little boy is growing up.