In 48 hours we will be giving The Nut the biggest surprise of her four year old life. Aside from that little reality check that was her baby sister actually living with us.
We are off to the most magical place on Earth.
It’s a plan that’s been in the works for months and we decided to keep it a secret. Mostly because I love the commericals where they whisk the delighted and grateful children off in a mouse-eared tizzy to the vacation of a lifetime. But also because if we told her she would have driven us nuts asking about it and the past weeks would have been filled with utterly empty threats of “We’re not going if you don’t…”
Five days of princess chasing and fast passes and sugar-coated “cast members.” Four years ago it might have been my personal vision of hell.
Now, I’m watching YouTube videos, browsing blogs, and feeling a teensy bit jittery with excitement. I shit you not.
I suppose that’s what motherhood is, no? Absorbing and reflecting the love of your children and their own various loves?
I’m going to draw the line at wearing a gown myself, but you might just find me skipping toward that castle holding hands with my own little Cinderella.
They serve champagne, right?