After a multi-year marital campaign, I finally convinced my husband to say yes to a family vacation at Disneyland.

Disneyland’s official tagline is “The Happiest Place on Earth.” My desire to travel there with my family wasn’t about seeking happiness, exactly. But I confess that spending months thinking about and planning for the trip did indeed bring me joyful moments.

In fact, as soon as my husband acquiesced that our preschoolers, now four and five, were “of age” and “of height” to make it worth our hard-earned vacation dollars, the catchy lines from Dada’s 1992 pop song, “Dizz Knee Land” played on gleeful repeat in my head. Only minor lyric adjustments were necessary.

From:
I just crashed my car again.
Now I’m going to dizz knee land.
I just robbed a grocery store.
I’m going to dizz knee land.

To:
I just packed a lunch again.
Now I’m going to diz knee land.
I just shopped at a grocery store.
I’m going to diz knee land.

This escapist song as a pleasant earworm aside, for me Disneyland wasn’t about happy, but family. I hold such fond memories in my heart from my childhood, visiting Disneyland as a six-year-old with my mom, sister, and grandparents – all of us singing together as we floated through It’s A Small World, and the carefree feeling of soaring through the warm California skies with my sister aboard Dumbo. Time has colored these memories rosy, so the experiences that stand out for me are indeed happy ones. But it was a desire for our family to spend dedicated time together creating our own set of memories that drove this destination choice.

Disneyland indeed proved to offer us a quality, memory-filled family vacation. But I would not be painting an accurate picture to represent it as “The Happiest Place on Earth.” This time visiting as a parent, the lens I was looking through gave me a more well-rounded view of Disneyland from the nostalgically “happy” memories of my youth. Happiness is great, of course. But there is more to a healthy emotional life than feeling happy – and what better opportunity for development to do its work than at this magical playground!

With help from some of Snow White’s seven friends (some you may recognize and some you may not), here’s an illustration of the complete picture of our emotional experience:

Bashful
The preschool period is a time of great shyness. Combined with the inconsiderate relating that’s also characteristic of the preschool period, this did not bode well for saccharine character encounters. My daughters met over 20 Disney characters – from Eeyore to Cinderella’s fairy godmother. They enjoyed the meetings, but weren’t comfortable engaging in conversation with furry or frilly “people” they weren’t attached to in any way. Shyness is a good thing – designed by Nature to help keep our children close to us. But minimal eye contact and no “Thank you for your autograph, Goofy!” isn’t exactly the “happy,” expected response.

Rather than push my children out of their timidity or force social niceties that weren’t coming naturally, it was up to me to compensate for what was missing – providing my children with scripts and modeling – and giving my own thank-you’s to make up for their lacking social graces. “Yes, Mad Hatter, to answer your question, we are indeed looking forward to riding on the tea cups later today!”

Grumpy
At several points while at Disneyland, it felt like we were channeling Grumpy instead of his cohort Happy. Long lines… a couple of ride breakdowns right before our turn came… a show canceled midway through due to technical difficulties… later-than-usual bedtimes… hotter sunshine than three native Pacific Northwesterners were used to… etc!

Natural grumpies came out from these frustrations. My initial instincts were to tell my other three family members, “Buck up! We’re at Dizz Knee Land, people!” That approach didn’t go over so well, though… and then I remembered to make room for the grumpies to come out. All emotions need to be expressed. It’s one of the three keys to emotional health and maturity. So instead it became a matter of coming alongside the frustrations in order to help us all move through them. “Oh, I know, it is so frustrating waiting for our turn!”

Happy
Once Grumpy was given room to come out, Happy followed. That’s because as humans we can’t feel the emotional highs without also knowing what the lows feel like. Disneyland seems to have mastered queuing to a science – how to make long lines appear short, how to entertain guests while in line. They must know the developmental science behind emotion – how it ebbs and flows – and use that, too, to their advantage. After forty minutes embracing the grumpies while in line, Splash Mountain’s jovial scenery, anticipated thrills, and cool water left us all absolutely ecstatic! Same thing at Radiator Springs Racers. Grumpy in line. Happy on ride. We repeated this pattern over and over and over throughout the theme park.

Thwarty
That It’s A Small World ride I so fondly recalled? Sadly, closed for refurbishment! At the very least, I thought, I’d get my daughters to pose in front of the ride to recreate a cherished photo of my mom, sister, and me in the very place. But, um … young children can sniff out an adult’s agenda anywhere in the 500-some acres of Disneyland. My request for a sentimental photo in front of a ride my children knew nothing about was met with counterwill and additional resistance to even fake a smile. My husband snapped the picture anyway – not exactly the quintessential one I’d had in mind. But all the better because it captured the true essence of my children’s emotions in that moment… and gives me a chuckle each time I look at it!

Sensitivity
Disneyland with two sensitive young children works best in a reclining double stroller complete with a sun canopy. This was not planned on my part. I rented the stroller purely for ease and to save my arms and back from the weight of my girls and our food, sunscreen, and extra clothes. But it turned out to be brilliant! In between rides, the girls would practically nose-dive into the stroller, pulling the sun canopy tight and intuitively making it cave-like to get a break from the intensity of the crowds, heat, and colors. The stroller morphed into a cozy little nest that helped give them a sense of comfort and safety throughout the day and into the World of Color show at night.

Sneezy
The month of May is considered “off-season” for Disneyland tourism. But what the Disney guides don’t mention is that May is the prime of allergy season. When embarking for “The Happiest Place on Earth” the last thing on my mind was incessant sneezing, or itchy eyes and throat. Next time, I will steer into the skid by bringing my Allegra (which ironically translates to “cheerful” in Italian).

Sleepy
At home, we adhere to a pretty regular routine. My daughters physically rest every afternoon right after lunch, giving them important time for solitude and emergent play. It wasn’t practical to stick to that routine while at Disneyland, but my daughter’s bodies are so accustomed to their time of daily rest that we had two very sleepy children on our hands (and in our arms) at very predictable times each day. Thankfully, we built in time for rest at the end of the trip… and could have easily doubled that time (especially for my husband and me!).

All growth emanates from a place of rest – physical rest, as well as rest from our innate attachment hunger for contact and closeness. After all the time spent together as a family, all the memories planted, the time unplugged from other responsibilities, and plenty of room given for all of Snow White’s friends – not just Happy – another kind of rest came forth.

Disneyland may not always be “The Happiest Place on Earth.” But succeeding in inviting a full range of emotions in my children gave me great personal happiness – not always in the moment, but in looking ahead to their long-term emotional health, as part of my larger aim to raise children who are able to feel their deepest sadness just as much as they can feel their profound happiness. It doesn’t get “happier” than that!

© Sara Easterly. All rights reserved.
This article was first published as an editorial by the Seattle Neufeld Community.