Disney World: Boys with Boys

Having two moms but no dad, my son has developed an especially close relationship with my dad – his grandfather.  At two-years-old, whenever I or anyone else read a book to him that had a father in it, he’d insist on calling the character Ba’bap – his way of relating to a world that didn’t exactly mirror his own.  Last year in pre-school, one of his classmates asked him if his Daddy was at work.  Without a moment’s delay, my son responded, “I have a Granddaddy and he lives in New York.” 

            When my son finally gave up diapers and started using public restrooms, he was ecstatic when his grandfather was around because it meant he could use the men’s room – the room in which he belonged – instead of the women’s room.  It was over the use of the bathroom, that a special sort of gender bonding began between grandfather and grandson. 

Recently, on our way to Disney World, while we were at the airport waiting for our flight to Orlando, my son needed to go to the bathroom.  When I offered to take him, he curtly cut me off, pointing to his grandfather as he spoke, “No, Grandpa!  Boys with boys.”  He smiled in his dismissal of me but I just chuckled, thinking to myself, “Well, that will make life easier in Disney.  The lines in the men’s rooms are always shorter than in the women’s rooms.”

During our first day which we spent in the Animal Kingdom, the trend continued.  My son would have to pee, and before I could speak, he’d raise a finger, aim it at Grandpa, and declare, “Boys with boys.”  By the second day, now in the Magic Kingdom, the mantra expanded.  No longer applying simply to bathroom runs, it carried over to who my son wished to sit with on the rides.  Getting ready to board the Peter Pan ride, I asked my son, “Who would you like to sit with?”  He looked at Grandpa, did a little dance, wiggling his hips side to side, as he pointed – with both pointer fingers - to both his Grandfather and himself, “Boys with boys.”  Then redirecting his fingers, he jabbed them at me and his grandmother, adding, “Girls with girls.” 

For the duration of the trip he employed his little phrase, “Boys with boys; girls with girls” repeatedly.  And my dad, basking in this very special role that his grandson had assigned, found himself doing things he swore for years he’d never do.  Rollercoasters have never been my dad’s favorite ride.  In fact, he generally opts not to go on them.  But Disney is Disney and, for that reason alone, certain life rules must be broken at least on occasion.  And so, my dad, like the rest of us, got on line to ride the Seven Dwarfs’ Mine Train.  As fate would have it, my son got a seat at the very front – the best seat on any rollercoaster.  Again I asked him, hoping he’d choose me, “Who would you like to sit with?” But alas, with an answer I expected, he left me feeling slightly disappointed, “Boys with boys.”  But Dad in the front row of a rollercoaster? Never! However, to say no would have been to disappoint his grandson, and so he did what no one ever thought he’d willingly do.  He happily took a seat in the front, and with his arm around his grandson for the duration of the ride, he enjoyed every moment of it.

For the entire week, Grandpa was my son’s main man.  “Boys with boys,” ruled the entire trip, but as in life, there are always exceptions, and fear proved to be the exception here.  Whenever we descended into darkness, or my son thought a ride might be scary, he dove into my arms, buried his head in my lap and wanted to ride with me.  As we were getting ready to go on the Haunted Mansion Ride, my mother asked him, “Why do you want to ride with Mama?” With his head pressed against my shoulder, he looked up at her and answered, “Because Mama always protects me.”  Yes, we all knew Grandpa would protect him too. We all would protect him. But it made me happy to know that sometimes, “Boys with girls,” can be just as good as “Boys with boys.”