Magic

We had an opportunity to visit the Magic Kingdom last weekend, kind of on the spur of the moment as a surprise for the kids. I used to take the big kids a lot, pretty much every year, at least once. Sometimes we would pay, sometimes we would pull a favor with a Disney employee, but we would make the trip from Miami to Orlando at least once a year. Of course, we had our own traditions that we developed, like sharing a huge turkey leg with my big daughter, jellybeans with my son, four o clock ice cream, among others. One tradition that we observe devotedly, although I can't remember why, is that we always watch the Carousel of Progress right before we leave the park. I can only guess that started because it's long, air-conditioned, and seated.

The last time I went was before the baby was born. MyTy and I went together just a couple of months before we got married, and that experience was a whole lot different from going with kids. We weren't in any rush, especially since we didn't pay to get in, and we only did the things we really wanted to do, hopping from park to park. The weather was nice and cool, and even the lines were tolerable, because we spent most of our time in them standing extra close, holding hands, and kissing. No tongue, you understand, strictly Disney kissing, but I'm sure some parents didn't expect their children to experience the magic in exactly that way.

When we had the baby, we told the kids that the next time we went would be when she was old enough to enjoy it, probably not for three years. They were fine with that, partly because we had just gone, the three of us, a year prior, and because they were starting to think of themselves as too old to get excited about Disney. So by the time we decided to use some of our tax refund to get tickets, they were really ready to go back.

Disney World is always great, but there's something really special about going with a little child, and especially one whose going for the first time. It's easy to get jaded about the real beauty and magic of the place as you get older, and even more so when you're the one buying the tickets. And it is magic, not the superstitious kind that should be a little scary, but the sleight-of-hand kind, the creative use of trickery that taps into your imagination, the real reason why they tell you not to use flash photography. I'll never forget the time I took a bunch of pictures of the Peter Pan ride when I was twelve and picked them up (remember that) only to see the inner workings of the trick revealed. I actually lost interest in the ride to this day.

But going with the baby brings all of that back. Everything is incredible to her, everything! I mean, she got to see the castle, and it's a real castle! She got to hang out with Pooh and Tigger! She hugged Minnie Mouse, and Minnie hugged her back, not like her stuffed toy. She went on so many rides that go so high in the air, she could see the whole park! And every time she got excited, we got excited with her.

Sure, the kids wanted to go on their own rides, Space Mountain and Thunder Mountain among them. So they rode them with MyTy, and I took the baby on a baby ride. But the thing is, the big kids wanted to ride the baby rides, too. They haven't asked for the Aladdin ride for years, but this time they wanted to go on it, just because the baby was riding it. I haven't been on it since they rode it last, and I went around twice, just because the baby wanted to go again.

Honestly, this trip was one of those times that makes me glad we accidentally got pregnant. Otherwise, we might have missed out on a beautiful baby girl, and on times like this. She really does bring us together, not just my wife and I, but all of us. The kids rode roller coasters with MyTy, I reconnected with the kids on baby rides. We missed out on 4 PM ice cream, because MyTy and I are giving up sweets for Lent, so that was hard, but I did notice that even though we were all tired at the end of the day, the big kids still insisted on doing the Carousel of Progress before leaving, and they insisted on having me go in with them. And it was exactly like I remember, which might mean they need to update that thing. I mean, voice activated appliances and virtual reality are no longer impressive as FUTURISTIC dreams, since smart houses and Oculus Rift. If the baby hadn't already been sleeping so nicely in her stroller, we would have all been in there together. But then there's always next time, right?

Miss Perception

I am becoming more and more convinced that men and women have such a hard time understanding each other because we understand the world very differently. It's not that men are from Mars and women are from Venus, because that would mean that we live in the same solar system. It's more like men are from Sakaar and women are from Krypton. Different worlds, different galaxies, different universes, different studios even. However, with enough communication and plenty of reminders, we do somehow seem to bridge the gap when necessary.

So MyTy and I had an argument last week, which rarely happens. Neither one of us is overly emotional or unwilling to share our thoughts, so we tend to talk things over before they become arguments. This usually ends in both of us getting only half of what we want, but then that's the mark of a true compromise. However, in any relationship, there will be the recurring issues that have to be resolved, again and again, due to personality differences or varying priorities. This particular argument was centered around my apparent inability to get my clothes successfully into the hamper, along with one or two minor complaints I had against MyTy.

On that note, just for a moment, I do have to admit that it is remarkable how I can focus so entirely on the simple act of putting an object into a receptacle when I'm on the basketball court, but completely lose interest when the object is a pair of underwear or a sock and the receptacle is a hamper. When I play ball with the guys after work, I am trying to think two or three moves ahead, taking powerful blows from opponents blocking me out of the key or setting picks for me to run full-speed into, all just to revel in the moment when I finally make a basket. My heart swells every time I make a three-point shot, which is usually out of range for me, and I go through a minute or two of self-loathing whenever I miss a shot that I know I can make, especially when the game is close. If I don't shoot at least 50%, I make myself stay after and shoot fifty more baskets before I leave the court. Often, I come home and brag about how many points I made, and I can report them in either overall points, points per game, or game averages. Then, I generally take off my sweaty clothes, throw them at the hamper, sink only about 20%, and get in the shower feeling perfectly fine with myself. I say all of this simply to say that my wife may have a legitimate gripe on this issue.

Anyway, this was the argument, which included some colorful language and some quasi-raised voices on both sides. If you don't know what "quasi-raised" voices are, then you've never tried to work out an issue while your toddler sleeps in the next room. From the outside, it looks a little like watching an action scene in a Will Smith movie, but with the volume turned all the way down to six or seven. Afterwards, however, we came to a compromise and apologized on both sides, hugged it out, and breathed a little easier, knowing that all was right in Christendom once again.

This is where the difference in perception comes in. A few days later, we ended up talking about the argument with a third party, and MyTy called it a BIG FIGHT. I actually got confused, because I didn't remember any other fight but that one, and I didn't consider it to be a BIG FIGHT. From my point of view, it was just working things out, albeit a little strenuously, and when it was over, I just felt very relieved that I had gotten to say what I wanted and that we weren't angry with each other any more. I really didn't think about it much after that. I have been involved in BIG FIGHTS before, and that wasn't one, at least not to me. Apparently, my wife was a little more rattled by it than I was.

I'm definitely not concerned about the state of the union, but my real concern is this: given the different lenses that we use to view the world, how am I supposed to know when we are in a BIG FIGHT? Or is every argument a BIG FIGHT?