Category: bliefs

So we were enjoying another dinner together and I needed some spice.

Abby, can you pass the pepper please?
No.
Excuse me?
No thank you? I don’t want to.

Okay, so this answer has the breath of some things we teach Abby:
* be polite
* be honest
* let us know when you don’t want to participate.

The fine line between not wanting to participate and simply accommodating a micro-request is still, for her, a little gray. While I may have been taken aback I was also bemused and I retorted with a twinge of sarcasm.

You can’t put your fork down and hand me the pepper?
no [almost imperceptibly]
[with a bit more sarcasm and a wry smile]
Can you move it with your mind then?

I thought that was the final word and I prepared to get the pepper myself but with a twitch of her eyebrow and a small tremble of effort Abby fleetingly engaged the inanimate pepper mill with her formidable mind. Turning to me she answered decisively and honestly.

No.
[after the laughter started she laughed with us and continued]
I can’t!

I have to remember that sarcasm is still a few years away, but the interplay between adult sarcasm and children’s honesty may be ninety percent of the content for child humor columns, so I keep at it.
Recognizing the actual effort of her attempt, I reached the pepper myself.
She likes me retelling this story.

Abby has the gift of gab.
Every line we stood in that was longer than 20 minutes ended with a goodbye to a new friend.
All but one line ended in a ride or a meal.
Two lines ended in new toys.
* The girl in front of us on Space Mountain gave Abby her (whale) dolphin.
* A woman in front of us on Toads Adventure gifted Abby a small Tinkerbell for her pocket.
Four Japanese girls on holiday wearing Minnie, Mickey, Goofy, and Tigger ears thought Abby looked like Dakota Fanning and took their pictures with her, teaching her the Japanese word for cute.

But some of the best gifts were untouchable.

On the first day Abby was startled and scared by the menacing characters of her first indoor Disneyland ride, Pinocchio. At the end of the ride, she was crying pretty hard. Alison, an attendant at the end of the ride heard her crying and asked us what happened. She immediately gave us the lowdown on the remaining rides, Peter Pan and Snow White. Then she took the step that makes Disneyland real. She said,

Abigail? Do you like Peter Pan?
Yes [between sobs]
Well why don’t you come with me and let’s take a ride on the flying ship with Peter Pan and Tinkerbell.

Alison proceeded to take us up to the exit and straight onto Peter Pan without the 30 minute delay of the rest of the line. And when we were done with that we were told we had a spot in Snow White if we wanted. Abby was good after Peter Pan and didn’t ride Snow White until the last day but Alison made an impression on Ang and I.

Abby is particularly fond of Ariel, Snow White, and Cinderella but now Alice in Wonderland has a special place. On day four, we saw Alice and The Mad Hatter dashing across the plaza, grabbing attention and navigating small children and strollers. Abby saw her and I encouraged her to run over and “catch her up”.
She did, and after the brief hug and picture that followed Abby just stood there and watched the next kids getting autographs and the requisite clever quips in Madhatterese.
Every time Alice looked towards Abby, Abby waved.
One woman, whose daughter was waiting patiently behind Abby encouraged Abby to take her turn. Abby said

I already did.
Oh, I thought…well…but you kept on waving at her.

Alice heard the exchange and turned to the woman and said,

Because she’s my friend.

Abby and I looked at each other with wide eyes.

[matter of factly]I’m her friend.
You sure are honey.

Shortly, her purposeful lingering was further rewarded. Abby was approached by the Mad Hatter this time and then Alice joined in for a 2-3 minute conversation about tea cups and riddles and other things Wonderland. Considering the other pressures on their time that may as well have been an evening dinner.

It was real and all because she was her friend.

So, the return flight has started, my girls are sleeping (or trying to), let’s blog. *
All the books claim that most kids answer the question

What was your favorite part of Disneyland?

with the answer

The swimming pool at the hotel.

Long story short, our experience was no different.

It might have been meeting Ariel, or riding the Big Thunder Railroad, the Grizzly Bear Whitewater Rafting Run, talking extensively with Alice and The Mad Hatter, riding Space Mountain three times (and inexplicably spying trees therein), hugging Minnie Mouse, or driving any of the many automobiles around their respective parks, or even the longest and most expensive ride of them all, the 737.

Those would be the favorites of a certain Mommy and Daddy. While an independent observer may have taken careful note of the starstruck looks and the enviable screams of joy followed by the common refrain

Is that the real…
…Cinderella?
…Ariel?
…Mickey The Mouse?
…hot lava?
…fire?
…[insert another punchline, character, or effect]?

they may have come to a similar conclusion as The Mommy and The Daddy.
But that same casual and independent observer would have likely heard the same answer to the common question;

The swimming pool.

That may sound like a bad thing but it was not. The aforementioned joy was no less real and no less incredulous by this repeated answer. The metaphysics of reality aside, it certainly was a real good time and now we know that we can go to Wild Waves or, for that matter, any local Super 8 Motel for the vacation dreams are made of.

Stay tuned for part 2 and some special stories that individually made the trip worth it.

(Note: I wrote this on the plane ride home but posted it tonight, a couple days later.)

I had this small idea for a brief little post this AM to share with you my touristy side about how I got my first coffee at the worlds first Starbucks on my way to work but right after I took my first sip my idea changed.

Right before I left my previous job in Auburn I was turned onto the idea of ordering “good” (organic, fair trade, shade grown, [insert cause here] ) coffee from a place called Grounds for Change. Angela and I gave it a run and found it to be just fine and morally better than some other alternatives, so we stuck with it.

The original conversation that led to the first order included relatively disparaging remarks about the quality and taste of Starbucks coffee. It is over-roasted, burnt and (paraphrasing) generally tastes crappy. I agreed conversationally but inside gave the thought a modest and relatively uninterested ‘psh, coffee is coffee’.

It has been about a year now, after my move downtown, and I have been taste testing various coffee houses, trying to develop a sense for which location I prefer, which has the best ‘flavor’ etc. Granted I tend to sweeten my coffee to the point where I am comparing the flavor of sugars as much as the flavor of coffee but there is still adequate comparisons (as long as I put a lot of sugar in all of them). hehe

During that time I have mostly consumed Starbucks Sumatra blend, which they supply at the office, and it is generally adequate. Also recently I watched a documentary on PBS called Black Gold and that turned me onto a particular coffee that they happen to sell at Grounds For Change, it is Ethiopia “Yirgacheffe”.

I tried it for the first time last night and I am not disappointed. It is very good and morally rewarding as well. Somehow, buying this coffee makes me feel like I am helping out the underdog in Ethiopia rather than the Big Dog in [insert suburb here]. I know that almost all underdogs want to become Big Dogs and we tend to have a soft spot for underdogs in The United States of Big Dog…but that is a different thread.

All this to come to the point that as I performed my duty this morning, finally stopping at the first Starbucks to use my giftcard, and swallowing my first sip of…ACK!! over-roasted, burnt, and a basically crappy tasting cup of coffee. The Ethiopians and opinionated Existentialists have ruined me, and now (if I end up really taking to coffee) I won’t be able to walk into any city in the world, walk three blocks, and enjoy the resulting caffeinated beverage. It just doesn’t taste good anymore.