When my oldest son was in middle school, he told me most of his friends were super excited to return to Disneyland after the pandemic. Meanwhile, he’d never even been to a small-town theme park. He seemed authentically sad about this.
At first, I wanted to argue. For years, I’d worked two jobs as a single mom of three, struggling to adhere my small family to middle–class status. The look on my 13-year-old’s face when he lamented Disneyland was so vulnerable and sincere that it kept me from blurting out a defensive line about the privilege he experienced growing up with his own bedroom and a cellphone, no less.
I took a deep breath and realized he wasn’t wrong. I’d spent so much time trying to ensure that my kids had a better childhood that I forgot how important family vacations were when I was little.
I would love going to Disney World as a kid
My dad was a Florida park ranger, so he received free passes to Disney World. Later, my parents prided themselves on saving enough money for a few days in the Magic Kingdom every summer — even if we had to camp or stay in an old motel far from the parks. Although we could barely afford it, I grew up loving the Happiest Place on Earth.
I also remembered the stress for both kids and adults: sweating through the long lines, arguing with my brother, watching my parents crash at the end of each night. As a parent, I was nervous to take my kids by myself. Two of my children have diagnoses of ADHD and autism, and one uses a wheelchair. The idea of navigating a theme park sounded like a nightmare.
So, I scoured the internet for six months, analyzing mommy blogs and pro-tips for “doing Disney” with kids with disabilities and specific dietary needs. I saved up and made lists and reservations. I memorized backup plans in case one or more of my kids approached a sensory meltdown. On Christmas morning, I gifted my kids big, fake tickets, and we prepared for our spring break trip.
We had so much fun
The first day of Disney was one of the best days I’ve ever had with my kids. Ride by ride, snack by snack, we marched through the day from the moment the park opened until fireworks went off at 11 p.m. Not only were my kids thrilled — they were caring, playing games instead of complaining when lines were long and hot, sharing overpriced treats, and kindly negotiating who got to pick the next ride, making sure everyone left satisfied.
After they fell asleep, I texted my longtime friend, whose kids are theme park experts, “I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I think I love Disney.” This was a big statement. I’m not the kind of person who wears brands, and I typically feel more at ease on an untouched beach than in a hotel or resort. I thought, Surely, today was an anomaly. I steeled myself for the next two days of our park-hopper pass.
On our last night in California, my oldest child sniffled a bit, “I don’t want it to be over.” His sister said, “Yeah,” and my youngest asked, “When can we come back?”
“I loved it, too,” I said, and I meant it.
The staff was so accommodating to my family’s needs
The staff at Disney were incredible, making sure our family could take our time to access every ride. The food was great, and we worked as a team in a way we hadn’t before, coping with discomfort, heat, and disappointment when plans changed or rides unexpectedly shut down. Each day, we entered the park when it opened and left when it closed, and my kids’ kindness seemed to increase.
On our last day, my 8-year-old approached another little boy outside the bathroom at Space Mountain. The little boy was crying because his dad wouldn’t buy him a giant lollipop. My son touched his shoulder and said, “I bet your dad is saving up for something better.”
The trip was beautiful, but I was still glad I waited until my kids were older. For us, vacation became a microcosm of real life in the very best way. Every day, we knew it was precious, and we shared a goal: to have fun.
We planned our days out together. If we needed to rest or eat or change plans, we collaborated to find an option that would work the best for everyone. Our time at Disney was not only a celebration of time off, but a low-stakes opportunity to learn more about each other, to really listen when things got a bit tough, and to find creative ways to return to joy, no matter what, as a team.
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