We are a Disney family. Always have been.
Some of my favorite memories of my children live inside those park gates, and at 16, my baby girl is still a joy to be with. She is not the eyerolling, hood-up, "this is so cringe" teenager the internet loves to warn you about. We actually like each other. We talk, we hang out, we genuinely enjoy each other's company.
And still — I was nervous about this trip.
What I Was Nervous About
Here is what I was working with. We had exactly one day for one park, tacked onto the end of a four-day volleyball tournament. Her body was already wrecked, sore feet, tired legs, and I was about to ask it to walk 20,000 steps through the Orlando heat in July.
This was also our first Disney trip as a party of 3 without her older brother. No other non-parent in the group to talk to, just her, me, and her stepdad. She was missing her friends back home, who were all together celebrating the Fourth of July without her. Also, she is now old enough to notice the adults sipping their way around the world at Epcot … but not old enough to join in.
Then there was the price tag. Anyone who has booked a Disney day knows exactly what I mean. I had a lot of anxiety about this expensive day going sideways.
Maybe I Was Worried for Nothing
A few days earlier, during a break in the tournament, we slipped over to Disney Springs. She picked out new ears, and she was genuinely excited. Not "fine, whatever, if I have to wear them" excited. Actually excited.
We grabbed cookies at Summer House on the Lake and filmed ourselves tasting and rating each one. There was something so heartwarming about being that present with her not caring one bit how silly we looked. Just us, in the moment. It was such a good time.
But here is the moment that told me something. The next day, she lost a hard match. We came back to the hotel room, and she spotted those ears sitting there, and she perked up. Not to make me happy. Not because she felt like she had to. She was excited.
"I never want to leave"
We hadn't even scanned our tickets at Epcot before we were talking about how we didn't want to leave and even looking up what it would look like to change our flights and add another day.
For a few hours, it was perfect.
And then, around 2:00, we started to lose her. She looked miserable. She was so hot. Her feet hurt. She didn't even want a snack because it was so hot that eating anything sounded like it would make her sick. I looked at her and thought there is no way we make it another six hours to fireworks.
I started texting my husband: should we just cut our losses and go back to the pool? Even though we had splurged on the premium Lightning Lane. Even though this was the day. I was ready to call it.
The hidden little theater that saved everything
We were wandering through the France pavilion, half-defeated, when we stumbled on the Beauty and the Beast Sing-Along just as it was about to start. We had never done it before, it is kind of tucked away, easy to walk
right past.
Most of the people filing in had very little kids. She was not excited. Honestly, we went in because we needed to sit down and get into some air conditioning.
That theater saved the day!
We were laughing out loud. We were singing along. Something shifted in that dark room full of toddlers — real, actual Disney magic. She came back to us.
We made it!
We made it to the fireworks.
We rode every ride. We saw every country. Aside from that one 2:00 blip, we had the best day together. The day I had been so scared would fall apart turned into one I will never forget.
A Close Call
The next morning, after spending 5 nights in a hotel room with her parents, we had a brunch reservation at The Cake Bake Shop on the Boardwalk before heading to the airport. I had been there once before, on my bachelorette weekend (that's a blog for another day), and I wanted to bring her.
If anything, this day was harder. She was even more exhausted. It was even hotter. The short walk from the Skyliner to the Boardwalk left us all sticky and sweating before we even sat down. We tried to grab a few pictures for her Instagram by the water, and she didn't like how she looked. She was hot, hungry, tired, and done. And I thought, oh no, right at the end, this isn't the note we want to end the trip on.
And then Disney magic struck a second time. The sparkles and the sugar brought her right back to us. She loved everything about that place. Surrounded by all that pink and gold, she looked around and said, "If I were a building, this would be me."
Success! I will never forget that sentence as long as I live.
Take the trip
So here is my whole point.
If you have been telling yourself your kid is too old for Disney, that they've aged out, that they won't care anymore, that it isn't worth the money at this stage … this is your sign.
Take them.
Yes, they will get hot and tired and teenagery. Yes, you will have a 2:00 moment where you wonder what on earth you were thinking. But you will get them back. The hugs, the nostalgia, the little kid you remember peeking back out through the almost-grown one standing in front of you. You cannot put a price tag on that.
I am so glad I didn't go back to the pool.
P.S. — Planning the kind of trip where you actually get to be present for these moments (instead of drowning in logistics) is literally what we at Me and the Mouse Travel do. If you're dreaming up a trip with your own almost-grown kid, we'd love to help you make it happen. Reach out to your Me and the Mouse Travel Specialist.
