Wednesday we played hookey. Paul and I both took the day off work so that we could enjoy a day at Disneyland as a family — so I guess if we made the plans in advance and informed our employers/clients, then it’s not really hookey. (The SoCal Select passes don’t work on weekends or major holidays, and I’m not a big fan of crowds anyway. Besides, there’s something about weekends that are much more like work and a lot less like holiday. What we wanted was a holiday.) We have instituted a new family tradition of “Family Day.” We’re going to do something like this every year.
My SIL and her two kids joined up with us and we spent a perfect day in the magic kingdom. When we finally decided to stop playing and eat it was quite late. A balloon man came to our table and offered to make Little Red whatever he desired. As my baby is finally discovering the dark side of things, he lit up at the offer of a sword (not surprising giving how many pirates he had seen that day.) The man made him not only a sword, but a belt holster and a very elaborate pirate hat. It was very entertaining and it made Little Red feel very special. I was just pleased to find out that the balloon makers are paid by the park and only accept tips from the guests.
Boy Blue was less entertained. He sat in his chair and banged on the table. A really bad feeling washed over me, and suddenly I looked up to see our pizza flipped over and on the ground. I didn’t think his arms were long enough to knock it, I think possibly he just hit the table hard enough that the pie bounced off the tray. Regardless, I was grateful we each had some pizza on our trays so that we wouldn’t hungry, and without saying a word I got up, cleaned up the mess, and returned to my seat. When I’m really mad, I’m really quiet. I was very quiet. I was ready to finish what was on our plates, pay the bill, and get on the road to Glendale.
Within no time (and not because we called any attention to ourselves) our waiter was picking up the pieces of our broken meal while the manager asked Paul was kind of pizza it had been (unrecognizable at this point.) He assured us we’d have a new one in 4-5 minutes (they cook in a wood-burning oven at 600-700 degrees.) I was shocked. It wasn’t a mistake on their part and they owed us nothing. They didn’t need to do that, but they did, without a second thought, and both stayed very near us and checked up on us often to make sure our dinner there was a positive experience. They truly went above and beyond. SO Disney.
Sing with me “Dulac is, Dulac is, Dulac is a per-fect place!”
oh, I mean Disneyland.