A small boy, his grandparents, And Walt Disney World make An irresistible combination.
A THREE-GENERATION VISIT to Orlando s Walt Disney World turned into a delightful opportunity for grandparent-grandchild bonding when our son and daughter-in-law took off for a day of swimming with the dolphins (see "A DIP WITH THE DOLPHINS"). As soon as they were out the door, we scooped up three-and-a-half-year-old Danny and headed for a day of fun and adventure with Mickey, Minnie, and the rest of the Disney gang that proved a treat for both sides of the generation gap.
The opening stop started the day off on such a high note that subsequent events almost paled in comparison. We'd booked a Character Breakfast at our hotel, allowing us access to a sumptuous buffet while intermingling with an assortment of toons. As sophisticated a kid as Danny is at his age--for instance, far more computer-literate than his grandfather--he is convinced that the familiar creatures all over the park are real. Not about to disillusion him with the information that they are costumes stuffed with well-rehearsed staff members, we sat back and watched him interact with perfect seriousness with Goofy, Minnie Mouse, and chipmunks Chip 'n Dale. Posing for pictures with them, giggling as Goofy ruffled what's left of Grandpa's hair, and making sure that they signed the autograph album he toted with him throughout the day, he was ecstatic. Expecting that the experience would be too exciting for him to find time to eat, we were amazed to watch him consume a trencherman's breakfast, scarfing down French toast like it was going out of style. We were only able to pry him loose from the place with extravagant promises of what lay ahead.
Our arrival at the Magic Kingdom called for a beeline straight to the Walt Disney World Railroad, which circles the park all day long, allowing riders to pop on or off at various stops along the way. A confirmed train buff who carries a backpack laden with his beloved Thomas the Tank Engine trains and tracks virtually wherever he goes, Danny would have been content to stay aboard indefinitely, reluctantly debarking at Mickey's Toontown Fair only when we assured him that we would ride again later.
In Toontown, we got our first lesson in how mercurial young kids can be, switching from boldness to timidness in the blink of an eye, with a healthy dose of stubbornness thrown in for good measure. Danny wanted no part of Goofy's Barnstormer, the extremely tame roller coaster he had enjoyed the previous year, nor did he want to get on line to meet Mickey. Instead, he opted for the playground designed for children half his age, refusing to leave until literally pulled out.
With Toontown obviously a washout, we headed for Tomorrowland, figuring his frequent viewing of the "Toy Story" video would make Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin irresistible. Wrong again. The alternate lure proved to be the Tomorrowland Transit Authority, an elevated train that gave a bird's-eye view of that portion of the park, though he found the occasional dark tunnel not particularly to his liking. Far more enticing was the Indy Speedway and its' race cars, and Danny was willing to wend his way patiently along the 20-minute line for the opportunity to careen around the track. Insisting on manning the steering wheel, he turned out not to have inherited the lead foot his mother is notorious for and, tiring of ricocheting from one side of the track to the other, he suddenly decided to cede the vehicle's operation to his grandfather, who found that leaning across the front seat to grasp the wheel did nothing to improve the smoothness of the ride. Despite the erratic trip, it was agreed upon that we had had fun.
Obviously, Fantasyland was going to be the high spot of the day in the Magic Kingdom, we were convinced, but again we hadn't anticipated the rapidly shifting moods of a three-and-a-half-year-old. A longtime aficionado of the denizens of the Hundred Acre Wood--in fact, his bedroom is decorated with them--Danny should have been demanding to go on the Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh ride. No sale. Peter Pan's Flight was closed; Snow White's Scary Adventure was on the verboten list because of the "scary" appellation; and the Mad Tea Party got thumbs-down, even though it had been a hit the previous year. Dumbo the Flying Elephant, though, had been talked about all day and was not to be missed. With a winding line passing under a sign proclaiming a 40-minute wait, Grandpa was staked out in the hot sun to work his way forward while Danny and Grandma went off in search of better things to do.
Time inexorably crept along, as did the line. With the end finally in sight, frantic neck-craning and waving ensued, hoping to attract the rest of our party. This drew Grandma with a confession. The two of them had become sidetracked at Ariel's Fairytale Garden, where Danny, stripped down to a pair of shorts, was having a ball running in and out of the water spurting from hidden ground-level jets and adamantly refusing to come out. "What about Dumbo?" Grandpa plaintively wailed. "He doesn't want to go" Grandma sheepishly reported. So much for 40 minutes baking on line. Hauling Danny back to dry land, we broke for lunch at the Pinocchio Village Haus, where he decided french fries were the only thing to his liking, mendaciously declaring that he'd have his grilled cheese sandwich "later." (Much dedraggled from being toted around the park for the rest of the day, it was deep-sixed once we got back to the hotel!)
Cheerful, energetic, and blissfully oblivious to how he was fracturing his grandparents' carefully planned itinerary, Danny led us off to Adventureland, where things picked up. Pirates of the Caribbean had been ruled out as politically incorrect, even though the raping and pillaging that spurred protests when the park opened has mostly been eliminated. Even if it hadn't been, it would have been left in the dust as he streaked to his all-time favorite--the Jungle Cruise. Perched solemnly next to the boat driver/guide, he oohed and aahed at each turn of the river as animatronic elephants, crocodiles, and hippos popped up. "How'd you like that?" we asked as we reached the end of the ride. "Again!" he demanded. Finally, an indisputable hit. So, back on line we went; worked our way up to the departure point; found to no one's surprise that Guide B's pun-filled patter was a virtual carbon copy of Guide A's; marveled anew at the amazingly lifelike animals, cannibals, etc.; and avoided a third time around only by promising to return the following day. Thank goodness for kids' short memory spans!
Of course, our traversing of all the parks was not as straightforward as this narrative indicates. Factoring in meanderings, pauses for sightseeing, bathroom breaks, etc., it was nearing time to leave the park and meet our son and daughter-in-law for dinner. We cashed in Danny's raincheck and popped back aboard the railroad for a return to the main gate and the Monorail. Alighting at Main Street, we paused to enjoy a brief concert from a wandering ragtime band and do the requisite souvenir shopping. (There would be something unAmerican about coming home without a suitcase full of Disney-character T-shirts.)
Before we could get out of the gates, Danny spotted a gathering of cast members dispensing autographs, which meant that he had to get on line for each to sign his book. We had arrived just a few minutes before their break, it seems, and before he had collected all their signatures, they filed off, their handler promising, "We'll be right back. Don't go away." As far as Danny was concerned, those words were gospel, and he refused to budge from the spot he was standing on until the substitute crew members appeared 10 minutes later. Adding Tigger, Captain Hook, and Smee to his collection, he agreed that it was time to leave--at least for today.
Adding it all up at day's end, Grandma and Grandpa had had a marvelous time doing what grandparents do best--spoiling their grandchild. ("How come you were never that nice to me?" our son delights in complaining--semi-seriously, we sometimes suspect.) Danny had enjoyed a day out with his grandparents, being spoiled and getting away with all sorts of things he couldn't have if Mom and Dad had been around. And once again, Walt Disney World had proven to be an ideal destination for children of all ages--no matter their generation.
Sheila Rothenberg, Managing Editor of Nest Literary Classics, New York, is a freelance travel writer. Robert S. Rothenberg is Publisher and Editor-in-Chief of USA Today.
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