Last month we went on a pilgrimage, finally giving in to the cries of Disney chalaiN, not just from our daughter, but from the entire American nation. Z who had just turned five had unwittingly been promised a trip to Disney (by her father, I might add), on the condition that she stop sucking her thumb. Amazingly, she did. We were converts to the cause - believing in the Magic of Disney, preaching its power and benefits to all who cared to listen. After all, we are powerless New Englander parents with minimal ability to control our offspring's behavior. Pleading, cajoling, and threatening hypothetical dire consequences (which she has by now figured out never quite materialize) can only get one so far! Bribery is the way to go - the tried, tested, and foolproof method of getting things done, and quickly.



The trip to Disney started out badly. Z refused to sit in a rented car seat. Her delicate sensibilities were offended by its dirty gray color. After much convincing and heated discussion, she gave in to the bribe of yet another stuffed toy - the Flounder (fish) from The Little Mermaid movie that she had happened to glance at, in the hotel gift shop. As an aside, our home is drowning in stuffed toys, and we unable to navigate a few inches without bumping into one, or its elaborate bed.


The first day we tackled Magic Kingdom. Cinderella's Castle was beckoning. The bane of my existence is that my daughter loves the story of Cinderella. By latest count, I have endured reading it to her at least 300 times, probably more (not out of choice, of course). She has learnt important lessons from Cinderella. Among other things, that beautiful-looking people are good, and ugly-looking people invariably mean; that as long as they are beautiful, damsels in distress need not worry - they just need to sit tight and some dashing prince will come to their rescue. Needless to say, and much to my anguish, Cinderella is imprinted upon her gullible mind. I realized how much, when she started calling me Step-mother, every time I asked her to pick up after herself!


At Magic Kingdom, inevitably, Z liked the Dumbo ride the best. Horror of horrors, so did all the other kids. Yes, the Dumbo line was the longest - squealing, restless children, and their suffering parents waiting for over two hours for a long-cherished 2 minute ride on Dumbo, the elephant. "What could be worse," I thought to myself. Of course, this was before we had to line-up for another two hours for an encore of Sir Dumbo.


The 3-D, Honey, I Shrunk the Audience, at Epcot Center did not go down too well with our Z. It was too 3-D. So instead, we stood in line to meet Messrs. Goofy, Mickey, and Donald, with Z narrating the woeful tale of the thumb that was no longer sucked - in the global scheme of things, no less a sacrifice for her, than Ariel (The Little Mermaid), giving up her voice in exchange for legs to go meet the human Prince. At least that's how Z saw it.


Disney MGM Studios was the highlight of the trip for Z. The studios were a veritable, eye-popping, bonanza of mega-celebrities. Mickey was there again. She got to hobnob with Woody and Buzz (The Toy Story), Quasimodo (Hunchback of Notre Dame), Tigger (Winnie the Pooh's bouncing friend), and Ariel. Important matters such as what Ariel likes to eat, when Woody and Buzz would come to visit us in their spaceship, how come Minnie was nowhere to be seen, and why Pooh only wears a red shirt without bothering to cover his bottom with pants, were discussed ad nauseam.


We debated whether she would be able to sit through a live performance of Indiana Jones's Adventures - a show that, we were told, was full of loud explosive noises, pyrotechnics, gunfights, and daring physical stunts. We went in gingerly, ready to run out at the first sign of distress from our beloved. That was the least of our problems. Instead, we were red-faced with shame at all the stares we got at her uproarious laughter at all the worst moments!


We decided to make her pass on the Twilight Zone's Tower of Terror, an elevator ride that falls 13 stories twice. Although, I must admit that after spending an outrageous amount of money on all the various Disney accessories and paraphernalia she insisted on buying because she "neeeeeded" them, it was tempting to give her a little idea of the potential of dire consequences.


Anyway, we live to tell the tale. And "remembering the magic" is a small price to pay for no more thumb-sucking - or so my husband says. My advice to parents - go at your own peril! This pilgrimage will surely test your endurance, and most certainly will put a big hole in your pocket. But if you are able, and can afford it, it will make a believer out of you!