Fathers’ Day at Disney

So it’s six PM on Sunday, the girls, including Missus are passed out in bed after a full day at the Magic Kingdom. We’re headed back for a late dinner at Be Our Guest, and I insisted that Elder and Younger take naps before we go back.

We flew out yesterday morning and got to Orlando before noon and headed out to Hollywood Studios. I hadn’t planned anything out and we wound up wasting most of the day. We walked through the Star Wars park, but didn’t do either of the rides. Just wound up doing a Frozen sing-along and a 3D Muppet movie. Lessons learned.

Today was much better — we put out for the Genie+ so we could skip lines: Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Caribbean, and something else I’ve already forgot. We managed to get in a couple other rides the traditional way: It’s a Small World, and another 3D musical selection.

The kids are rotten and spoiled, competitive and ingrates. It’s probably a reflection of my narcissism and bad parenting, but they drove me crazy. I am that asshole dad that yells at their kids at the Happiest Place on Earth. Shame on me.

As far as people watching goes, there’s really no better place. The weather has been sweltering — 105 degrees with the heat index. I can’t even walk without sweating like a pig. I’m amazed that the staff — excuse me — cast members can perform without dying. God help those poor bastards in the suits. But the sheer humanity on display is amazing. I almost feel bad.

I saw a woman on the carousel today that was bigger than the horse. I have no idea how she got up there.

And on the other hand are the examples of youth and fitness that are wearing clothes that leave nothing — almost nothing — to the imagination. I feel dirty, but I am a male and a visual creature, and have decided that ogling shall be my vice.

I will also have a reckoning in several years when my girls come of age and want to wear yoga pants or tight-fitting clothes. God help me.

In a few minutes I’ll wake them and make our way back to the park. We’re staying on the resort, the Swan and Dolphin, where everything costs the same as in the park, ten dollars for a decent IPA — or an egg muffin for that matter. I’ve already resigned myself to throwing money away and IDGAF for the most part.

Still, it bothers me that my girls are spoiled and don’t know how good they have it. We fight when we should be having fun.

It bothers me more that I don’t know whether it’s my fault that they’re this way.

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