Although the trip had been planned for many months, the kids only found out about it a few days ago. Time moves slowly when you’re a kid and weeks can feel endless. Not telling them was an act of mercy.
They found out three days before the trip was to commence and they immediately started to pack their bags, trying to cram as many of their toys and stuffed animals as their small backpacks would carry. They spent the next few hours debating which items would be the most essential on the long flight.
I sat back and gleefully watched them scurry around, flush with the adrenaline rush that comes with being told you’re about to go to Disney World. Inside I was as excited as they were.
The night before the trip I packed my bag, unable to shake the feeling that I was forgetting something, that my routine had been shaken. I had traveled many, many times during the year and the trips had become rote, carrying the same bags to the same airport and arriving at the same destination. But this trip was different. This trip was a vacation—the only one I was taking all year…to a magical place…with the people that I love.
In a few days I would be riding roller coasters with the Bean and boats with Sprout. We would be shaking hands with over-sized rodents and smiling at princesses. We would be having the time of our lives.