Tomorrow Lucas and Abigail star in their school Thanksgiving performance. They’ve been practicing hard, “standing for a really long time.” I’m arriving early to play photographer to a few classes, capturing the preK Native American love, then sitting stage center with a tissue and waterproof mascara. Because, yes, I’ve become this mom. The mom I used to dread. The mom I no longer mind. The sap.

After their performance, we’re whisking them home, then they’ll do as they do each day: they will check the mail. In our mailbox, inside a silken blue bag laced with pixie dust and a shower of glitter, they’ll discover this: The Keys to The Magic Kingdom.

I’d better make sure the cameras are rolling. More pixie surprises will arrive for them en route. But a surprise to no one but me, apparently, will be the way I SOB at witnessing all of it. Because they’re still at the age where they can believe that Cinderella isn’t some person who went to an upscale Party City for a costume. No, they can believe that this woman before them actually lives here, in the castle… working with a therapist on curbing her incessant need to mop and scrub floors.
We’re staying at the Animal Kingdom Lodge, where I’ll be unloading our bags for a four night stay… unloading costumes and hair glitter, two tiaras, healthy snacks, and Family-Dollar Store Disney gifts that will arrive magically when they awake each morning. It just makes more monetary sense to me to do it this way, to come with our own costume instead of spending a hundred dollars on a fairy dress and hair extensions. More posts obviously to come, and I welcome any ideas on anything Disney World related. This is so so last minute, that we can use all the tips and opinions we can get.