Wednesday night we kidnapped The Kid. Before adrenaline rushes through your body -- we took her to Harry Potter land.
Yes, I flew to Orlando.
I am not a theme park opposed person in general. But Orlando? Honestly scared me. SCARED me. Parks crushing with families, in supreme heat, tremendous lack of gluten-free options, hyper imposed "FUN" everywhere. So when The Kid asked a year ago to go to the Harry Potter park (technically part of Universal Orlando ) I said, "Not ever in my lifetime, my love."
But Wednesday night we turned to her, told her to grab her favorite stuffed animal and hauled pre-packed suitcases from the closet. We wouldn't tell her where we were going but (here's where us as reporters kicks in) : she could ask anyone she wanted. Her first query? The TSA agent -- Did he knew where she was going? Quick second of me wondering if The Prince and I would be swept into closed rooms. He flicked her an eye, me an eye, and handed our passports without answering her.
So after a subway ride, train ride, tram ride, flight and car ride, The Kid, lying on the bed at the hotel at 12:30 am figured out she was about to meet her literary hero. (Yes, that makes me happy to write. Nerd to you too.) And 6 hours later (don't ask me what time the park opens. Don't.) she did.
Don't worry -- the rest of Universal lived up to all my worst fears. But at 9 am, snuggled next to The Kid nursing a Butterbeer while she practiced her Wingardium Leviosa on my purse with her Harry Potter wand, I didn't want to be anywhere else.
Well, a spiked butterbeer would have been nice. Just saying. For mama.
Comments
And queenmonkey, I understand the fear.