The Happiest Place On Earth

This weekend I learned a very important lesson -- Mr. Ex hates Mickey Mouse, but he likes me a lot.

Mr. Ex has always been honest about his feelings about Mickey Mouse. He detests the poor little rodent. I believe he uses the term "rape," as in what the Disney empire does to your wallet the moment you walk through those pearly gates. In a way, he's right. While I don't particularly want to pay $12 for a turkey leg (okay, so it's really like $5.39), I believe frequenting the Magic Kingdom is a coming-of-age ritual for kids. And since between us, we have four of them, the time was upon us.

I had been promising to take my 6-year-old to Disney World for the last two years. But shit happens and there was always something standing between us and the mouse house. Two years ago, it was the birth of her sister. Last year, it was the divorce. As recent as April, we were supposed to make the journey. Sadly, Mr. Ex's dad passed away and we cancelled the trip again.

Somewhere along the lines, I managed to suck Mr. Ex into the trip. Initially, he was going to be away with his mother, working on a project for his aunt. The timing got him off the hook. But the circumstances changed, leaving Mr. Ex's schedule wide open and so I put a big red X on it to signify our first amusement park outing or D-Day as he preferred to call it. When he agreed to go, I was overcome with excitement.

Mr. Ex was quick to point out that if we were going to Disney, we were bringing all four kids. Of course, that meant I would also bring my mom Kuku along for the festivities. After all, she detested Disney as much as Mr. Ex. So they'd be in good company. To me, Disney World was the happiest place on Earth. I just couldn't understand how they could be so grumpy about the whole adventure. Me? I was downright goofy about the prospect of spending a magical day in the kingdom.