Four is a
special age, the perfect age, it seems, to visit Walt Disney World. No doubt
people of all ages have fallen in love with Disney. It doesn’t matter how old you are when you
first go, you are certain to experience the splendor, the magic that is Disney.
But at four, one is still defined by their innocence. At four, one believes in magic, one believes
that cartoons are real and that the characters within those cartoons really
exist. The line between fact and fantasy
is blurred, practically non-existent.
Just as easily as a four-year-old believes in Santa, he can believe that
Mickey Mouse is real person, that Goofy can be his friend and that Doc
McStuffins wants nothing more than to make his acquaintance. Yes, four is the ideal age and thanks to my
son’s grandparents he got to experience the magic this summer.
It was my
mother who initially understood, much more than I, the importance of my son
meeting the Disney characters. I was
older – ten – when I first went to Disney, and by then, already well aware that
the characters were nothing more than regular people in sweaty suits, some of
the magic was lost. Yes, I enjoyed
meeting the occasional character as we walked around, but my trip was not
defined by them. There were other
aspects of Disney World that made it special, memorial and a place to which I’d
long to return. I loved the history, the
nostalgia of Frontierland. I enjoyed feeling as though I had stepped back in
time and for an afternoon could pretend that I did not live in the
present. I also enjoyed Adventureland
where my imagination came alive and I could, for a few hours, pretend that I
was out and about in the great world living one great adventure after
another. I loved the rides. Remembering my own first visit, I forgot to
factor in the age difference, the fact that my son loves cartoons, and most
importantly, the fact that four-year-old doesn’t need to conquer an entire
theme park to find happiness.
Our first
day in the Magic Kingdom
my parents made reservations for breakfast in the Crystal Palace. There my son would get to eat with the
characters of Winnie-the-Pooh. He had
never been a huge fan of Winnie-the-Pooh, but it didn’t matter. The moment he walked into the restaurant and
saw Winnie-the-Pooh, Eeyore, Piglet and Tigger, his eyes opened wide and a smile
stretched broadly across his face, a face glowing with excitement and
anticipation. While we ate, one by one
the characters came to our table. With
each visit, my son’s smile grew wider.
He greeted each character with a high five and could not wait to have
his picture taken. A little boy who gets
frustrated and annoyed with me for taking too many pictures, could not pose
enough with the characters. And in each
picture, his smile remained genuine, never flagging, even as the rest of us took
turns jumping into the frame and handing off cameras to take more pictures.
In the
park, he waited on line to see other friends – Donald, Goofy, Daisy and Minnie
– and the time on line didn’t upset him.
I think he’d have waited an eternity if necessary, he was that excited
to meet every one. When it was his turn
to meet Goofy, his excitement bubbled over because I was wearing a Goofy shirt
and he couldn’t wait to point that out to Goofy. Throughout Disney, every time he came to a
souvenir penny machine he asked my Dad for two quarters and a penny. With his
pockets jingling with souvenir pennies, he approached Daisy and Minnie.
Reaching into his pocket, holding out his hand, he gleefully showed off his
prizes. The characters were always
gracious, acting excited to see what he had to show. And with yet another radient smile, my son would turn
to the camera.
In Epcot,
my parents took us to the Garden Grill where my son had the pleasure of meeting
Chip and Dale, Pluto and Mickey. Grandpa
loves the chipmunks, so when they came to say hello, he was just as eager and
excited to have his picture taken as my son was. Together the boys – grandpa and grandson –
smiled for the cameras. When the
characters first approach the table, they often do so with their arms extended. Watching other tables, I noticed that
children often run into their arms, greeting them with hugs. Not my son.
Instead, sighting their arms, he would turn his back into their embrace,
and while their arms hugged his shoulders, he would press his body into
theirs. In this pose he would smile,
look at me, and be happy that I had a camera to record the moment. What I love
best about his little encounters with the characters is that he called them
“walking stuffed animals,” which I thought a cute and clever way of referring
to them.
Our last
character meal was at Hollywood
and Vine in Hollywood Studios. Eating
breakfast with Sophia I, Jake, Handy Manny and Doc McStuffins was like eating
breakfast in heaven. My son’s favorite
cartoons had come to life just for him and he could not have been more
pleased.
As much as
my son loved the characters, he wanted no part of them if they looked like
regular people. In Epcot, he and his
grandmother waited to meet Mulan, but Mulan – to him- was just a woman wearing
traditional Chinese clothes. He did not
or could not, identify her with the movie – a movie he likes. Instead of being
excited, he acted shy, covering his face with his hands and demanding that I
stay with him for the picture. And when
he saw Elsa and Ana in the Mainstreet parade, he expressed not a glimmer of
enthusiasm. They didn’t look right. Yes, their dresses were identical to the ones
in the movie he adores, but their faces were different, wrong, and therefore,
nothing too exhilarating.
On our final
day in Disney, as we were walking through Frontierland, my son saw Chip and
Dale. Even though he had already met
them, he wanted to see them again and the thought of standing in the blazing
hot sun did not deter him. With sweat forming on his brow and dampening his
hair, he and his grandfather once again stood smiling for the cameras.
After dinner that last night,
before heading back to the hotel, we made one last character stop to see Mickey
in his studio on Mainstreet. Again, the
line did not bother my son, he waited patiently, knowing the reward would far
outweigh the tediousness of standing. When we were finally invited into
Mickey’s dressing room, and my son heard Mickey speak, his entire face lit up
as he turned to his grandmother, “Mickey talks.” Yes, just when you thought the novelty had to
be wearing off, Mickey talked and the experience was fresh, new and exciting
once again.
When I asked my son what he liked most about Disney, he
responded with a sparkle in his eyes, “The walking stuffed animals.”
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