Parenting
The book is a riot (“Jamie Thomas must be stopped. My partner thinks they’re funnier than me,” a famous comedian is quoted on the cover), cheeky, and an undeniably entertaining read. In the passage below, Jamie and their Disney-enthusiast partner, Sam, plot a family getaway to Disney World—unsurprisingly, Jamie isn’t entirely thrilled. © Gallery Books
Like many parents navigating the chaos of family life, Sam is determined to do things differently. Celebrations and traditions were scarcely present during Sam’s upbringing, making them a focal point in adulthood. Taco Tuesdays! Family Hikes! Let’s Make a (Dessert) Deal! Our life together feels like a series of festive gatherings, equipped with omelet bars and fajita stations. However, don’t even think about standing in Sam’s way; it would be a mistake to try.
Sam has a tendency towards emotional pica, a deep-seated yearning to reclaim the joys of childhood that were overlooked. It can be exhausting, but on my more sympathetic days, I grasp the motivation. While rolling out pizza dough or ordering the piñata, I roll my eyes, recognizing the feeling of being slightly broken. So, when Sam declared, “Jamie, we’re going to Disney World,” I wanted to graciously decline, thinking there was no chance I’d be making that trip. Instead, I smiled, nodded, and retreated to bed, internally sighing: good grief.
Bring up Disney in public and you’ll witness a variety of reactions. One person will light up with excitement, their eyes sparkling like little Mickey Mouse silhouettes, while another will vehemently declare that their daughter absolutely does not need a prince to be happy. If you dare mention Disney World, brace yourself for a vivid retelling of someone’s escapade on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride or how they nearly lost their lunch on Dumbo.
It seems everyone has a Disney story, including Sam. I learned that their blended family traveled in a Chevy Impala wagon. Due to a lack of seats, Sam was cramped in the trunk with a step-sibling and all the luggage. Their most vivid memory was pleading with their stepfather to visit Wet ‘N Wild Water Park, which lies just before the entrance to Disney World. The request was dismissed. Sam recalls hearing their stepfather grumble on the way home, “Well, we are never doing THAT again.”
As for me, my own Disney narrative unfolds in Tomorrowland, where no one in my family could manage a ride faster than the Hall of Presidents. I begged my family to join me on Space Mountain when I was nine, only to be met with a chorus of refusals. My dad clutched his Gucci belt, insisting he’d probably vomit, while my brother echoed his sentiments about the speed and potential for barfing. My mom, sensing my indecision, nudged me to hurry up since she thought she heard thunder and wasn’t feeling well. An imaginary line was drawn, clearly separating me from them, who had morphed into a squad of reluctant superheroes—The Non-Avengers. They were too busy worrying, feeling nauseous, and being cowardly to save the day. I contemplated crossing that line and thought: Fine, I’ll ride alone. Maybe I’ll get kidnapped. Maybe I’ll fall and die, and then they’d really know. So, I rode solo (but thankfully didn’t get lost or hurt). I remember nothing else.
Planning a trip to Disney World, much like parenting, is a chance for a fresh start. Some people return to the park with their children to relive the magic, while others come back to mend old wounds. Sam and I tackle our childhood healing differently—Sam organizes grand fiestas and “Best Day Ever” events, while I ensure no one rides solo. Despite my desire to right the wrongs of my past, I still had no interest in this trip. I resorted to my usual tactic of trying to back out.
“You know, I was thinking. Disney is pretty pricey,” I said one evening while loading the dishwasher. This argument typically gives Sam pause.
“Well, you only live once,” Sam replied. “They’ll remember this forever.”
“Isn’t it hurricane season?”
“There won’t be a hurricane,” Sam assured me, engrossed in research on the best memory-making pools in the Orlando area. “Do you care if we don’t stay on campus?”
Campus. They were already using the lingo. I was in trouble.
In the end, a trip to Disney World represents an opportunity to rewrite our stories, however daunting that may be. For more on navigating home insemination, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy insights. And if you’re interested in exploring home insemination kits, this link offers some great options.
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Summary:
Navigating a family trip to Disney World can evoke a range of emotions, from excitement to reluctance. Both Jamie and Sam have their own childhood experiences that shape their perspectives on the trip. As they prepare for the journey, they reflect on how Disney represents a chance to create new memories and rectify past disappointments.