I know it’s cheesy. I do. But I’m just going to have to own up to the fact that I love Disneyland. Ridiculously so.
I was 19 years old (and pregnant, I kid you not) the very first time I went to Disneyland. The only ride I could ride was Pirates of the Caribbean. (Which may or may not be one of my very favorite rides to this day.) One day I’ll tell you the story of taking a picture with Winnie the Pooh and the biggest belly competition, but I’ll have to save that for another day because I’m too busy making an ass of myself and my love for all things Disneyland.
Here’s the thing: my cute little family of four has THE BEST time in Disneyland. We do. We never fight about where to go. We walk through those gates and we don’t have to worry about jobs or school or all the other things we always have to focus on. When we get there? It’s all things family. All day. And we’re awesome at it, if I do say so myself. We just have so. Much. Fun.
Over the years, we’ve been so lucky to travel to the Happiest Place on Earth with some of our nearest and dearest. Our kids have gotten so good at FastPass and single-rider that we are pretty efficient, even when coordinating two families. Plus, we’re all pretty cute.
But I have to tell you something: Running through Disneyland is an absolute HOOT. I mean, as Sarah and I trained for the Tinkerbell Half Marathon, I knew it would super awesome, but I really couldn’t have imagined how fun it was to run through the park. I’M SORRY BUT IT’S TRUE. Plus, we’re pretty damn cute. Still. Or again.
I really don’t mean to sound so lame. I’m thirty-something years old and one my of my Happy Places is The Happiest Place on Earth. I should be more dignified. I should. But I just don’t think I have it in me. At all.
I’m just a big ‘ol kid. I just can’t seem to help myself.