Written March 18, Friday, 9 p.m.
Scott is asleep for the night. This is my first chance to write since returning home.
Scotty was good as gold on this trip. Didn’t get cranky once. This is not to say he didn’t try to push a boundary now and then. But he has been consistently sweet, cheerful, cooperative. A joy to be around.
Jeff and Sasha dropped off Scott last Saturday evening. They are due to pick him up tomorrow, late. To my amazement, I feel more exhilarated than tired.
I decided to invite Grandma to join Scotty and me for the Saturday night sleepover. I don’t really want her knowing that I have a spare bedroom, but odds are she’ll forget, so that risk was relatively low.
At least twice before bed, Mom panicked, saying she didn’t realize she would be spending the night. Who would take care of her cat? Funny, since she packed and brought an overnight bag. Speaking of which, when she looked around and saw her overnight bag, she marveled, because it must be Rebecca’s and “…it’s just like mine.” The next morning, she was similarly amazed to find a toothbrush in the guest bathroom that also happened to be just like hers.
I worried that she might wake in the middle of the night and not know where she was, but to my knowledge that didn’t happen.
Mom had brought a small stuffed animal for Scott. Did I think he’d like it? I suggested she ask him. So when I tucked Scotty into his bed (which we set up in my room), Mom walked in with the stuffed animal and said, “Do you know a boy who would like this?” Scotty said no thanks. She said OK and returned to the guestroom. A few minutes later she came back, stuffed animal in hand, and said, “Do you know a boy who would like this?” He said no. A few minutes later, she returned again and said, “Do you know a boy who would like this?” Scott said no again. This time after she left, I whispered to Scott, “Grandma doesn’t remember things.” He whispered back, “I know.” I was impressed. When I repeat myself, Scott is unabashed about saying, “You already said that.” But somehow he knew to be patient with Grandma.
When I called Mom and suggested she spend the night with Scotty and me, she said she would “love to meet him.” Later, when Jeff and Sasha dropped him off, Mom asked Sasha how Scotty knew who she was. Had he seen pictures of her? As usual, she had no memory of having met him.
Sunday morning, Scotty enjoyed waking up Grandma. I made breakfast. Auntie Kekka and the dogs joined us. Silly me: I mistook plain flour for pancake batter. It took me awhile to figure out why my pancakes were so anemic. Scotty had no interest in having me fix pancakes for the rest of the week, no matter how much I assured him that I’d get them right next time.
Sunday afternoon, Scotty, Rebecca and I took Grandma to Tracy Aviary. She commented on how things had changed since her last visit. Of course, she hadn’t had a prior visit. Sometimes she says such things in an attempt to fake remembering, because she gets embarrassed when she forgets. Several times, she mistook Rebecca and me for husband and wife.
Mom, I think, felt gratified and fulfilled from her time with us. I spoke with her on the phone yesterday, and had the impression she vaguely remembered the overnighter and Scotty’s company. I hope she hangs on to it for a while.
Monday morning, Scott and I boarded a Delta jet bound for John Wayne airport. Takeoff was at 10 a.m. He was cheerful and good natured, even with all the sitting in the airport, on the plane, on the shuttle to the hotel, and on the shuttle to Disneyland, which we reached (as I recall) around 2 p.m. He had no ear trouble on the outbound or return flight. I expected him to be agog at being on a plane — he doesn’t remember flying to Arizona with Jeff and Sasha a few years earlier — but he seemed only to take it in stride. But then, we were seated in the rear of the plane, over the wing, with a poor view.
Our hotel room at the Doubletree was nicer than I expected in that it had a separate living room. We each had a queen bed. Scott was excited to see a swimming pool and hot tub in plain sight directly beneath our window, one floor down. He wanted to go there right away, but I suggested we visit Disneyland first.
Scotty was visibly psyched as our shuttle pulled into the main Disneyland entry. As we walked into the park itself, he seemed in overwhelm. People dressed as Mickey and Goofy were right there. Scott stared but was too shy to approach them, or even for me to carry him to them. We walked to Toontown and explored a bunch of the character homes. The last we walked through was Mickey’s house, which features Mickey “in person” for photo ops. Scott was still shy, so we left.
Scott declined every ride we walked past in Toontown and Fantasyland. “I don’t like that ride,” he said to each one I suggested.
The park seemed as crowded as or worse than other times I’d been there. This surprised me for March. I later learned that many California schools were on spring break. Lucky us.
Suddenly Scott decided he wanted to go on the Buzz Lightyear ride. At last he would see what a Disneyland attraction truly is! We walked to Tomorrowland and got in line. I chose not to time any lines — only makes the wait seem longer — but I bet it was over 30 minutes. Scott was good-natured through the wait. He loved the ride. Right afterward, he wanted to go again, but immediately thought better of it, telling me the line was too long.
He was, however, up for the submarine ride. Once one of the oldest and lamest rides, it is now refitted with a “Finding Nemo” theme, complete with 3D Nemo video, visible under the water through the portals, with audio playing inside the sub. Still lame by me, but vastly improved. Since it features Nemo, the once-moribund ride is now a huge hit with kids, which meant we spent an eternity in line. I’m betting it was over an hour. Scotty was visibly tired but patient in line.
He liked the submarine ride at first. But near the end, there is a fake “emergency,” where loud thunder appears to shake the sub. Plus, big animated sharks chase Nemo and take a snap or two at the sub. Those parts scared him. Ah, I realized, no pirates or haunted mansions for him. Probably not Sleeping Beauty, either, with its scary witch.
Right after the submarine ride, Scotty was ready to leave — and very excited to get in the hot tub. We had done only two rides, but I realized something. My objective was for him to have fun. It wasn’t to justify plane tickets, hotel and park admission by forcing him to take in as much of Disneyland as possible. I saw a number of parents dragging themselves and their kids against their collective will in order to keep having “fun” and get “their money’s worth.” Tears and wails abounded and tempers flared. What dumdums, I thought. That is not how you create great memories for your kids. If Scott was done for the day and the hot tub appealed, then to the hot tub we would go.
I hadn’t thought of this before, but it takes determination and endurance to find your way to the fun at Disneyland. Scott’s first experience mostly consisted of crowds, long lines, heat, and endless walking. That, and a scare on the submarine ride. That’s asking a lot of an almost-five-year-old. All told, it wouldn’t have surprised me if Scott had decided he’d had enough Disneyland and didn’t want to return. If so, I decided, fine. The point wasn’t to do Disneyland. The point was for Scott to have a great trip.
The pool water was cold, so we hung out in the hot tub. It felt great on my tired legs. Long after I stepped out to relax in a chair to the side, Scott stayed in and played. He made friends there with Layla, age 4, and Benjamin, age 6. They played for over an hour. After a little while, a pair of beautiful, bikini-clad college girls showed up and joined him in the hot tub. Scotty utterly charmed them, and vice-versa. The young women were great at drawing him out, and seemed to hang on his every word. He loved regaling the college girls, his new friends, and his new friends’ parents with tales of his day at Disneyland. He was darned cute!
I was extremely grateful for Scott’s hot tub audience. They had all just arrived, so Scotty the only one in the hot tub who had actually been to Disneyland. He rose to the occasion as the center of attention, boasting of having seen Mickey and Goofy, visited Toontown, braved the submarine, and ridden the Buzz Lightyear ride (complete with shooting at robots — your car has laser guns you shoot at monsters bedecked with targets). The more his audience ooh-ed and ahh-ed at his tales, the more enthusiastic he grew about his day at Disneyland. When they asked, “Do you get to go back tomorrow?”, he beamed and nodded excitedly. By the time he climbed out of the hot tub for the night, Scotty was eager for the next morning, when he would get to go back to Disneyland.
Then we repaired to the hotel dining room, where kids eat free. I had (bland) chicken Alfredo, Scott had pizza. By the time we got to our room, he was beat. We watched a little TV, and then Scott went to sleep fast. So did I.
Tuesday morning, Scotty awoke eager to visit Autopia, in Tomorrowland, where you drive your own gas-powered car along a winding “freeway.” Over his objections, I insisted on taking the Disneyland Railroad from the park entrance instead of walking to Tomorrowland. Since “I don’t like that ride” was his standard reply, I knew that unless I pushed a little, we would only walk around. Only a few people were waiting for the train, so we got right on. Despite his resistance, he enjoyed it. As we rode, he excitedly pointed out sights he recognized from the day before.
We hopped off the train in Tomorrowland, which is the last stop the train makes before completing the loop and returning to the main entrance. It was a good place to hop off, since the last leg goes through a land of automated dinosaurs. They probably would have scared him.
The Autopia line wasn’t bad, at least by comparison. Scott was uneasy about steering the car, but with my assurance that the cars couldn’t crash no matter what he did, and my pointing out all the little kids who were steering, he was persuaded. I pushed the gas peddle (which he couldn’t reach) and he steered for all he was worth. Partway through the ride I heard him say, “This is cool.” He especially liked going up and down the hills and through underpasses.
Then I made him go on the Alice in Wonderland ride. Yes, made him. To avoid shaming him or making a scene, I was quiet and gently firm. He gets credit, however, because he didn’t throw a tantrum, either. He just kept muttering: he didn’t like that ride, he was thirsty, he was hungry (I had just fed him and bought him a drink), his stomach hurt. I was glad it didn’t occur to him to say that he needed a bathroom. I’d had the foresight to take him to a restroom just before getting in line, but I couldn’t have been sure he didn’t need to go again. Once in line, he stopped muttering, regained his native cheerfulness, and waited patiently.
After the ride, he stuck out his lip and quietly said, “I liked it.” Later, he would tell me that Alice in Wonderland was his favorite ride.
I thought that would open the door to his willingly trying other rides, but no such luck. I decided not to keep forcing it. Instead, I talked up Tom Sawyer Island, which is now re-branded as Pirate’s Lair with a few references to Captain Jack Sparrow. I had loved exploring the island as a young teen. I explained that instead of standing in lines and then sitting on a ride, he could run, climb and explore. He went for it. We boarded a raft to the island. Scotty enjoyed the raft, and loved running all over the island.
First he explored the tree house, which is built atop a huge, realistic-looking giant tree with stairs winding right through a big hole in the trunk.
We explored a cave together, then moved on to a spot with a hideout built atop more caves that twisted and interconnected.
That was where I lost track of him. I don’t know when I’ve ever been so panicked.
The caves are tight for adults to navigate, so I lingered out front where I could see him when he came out. I didn’t know that there is a back way out. Scotty went out that way and ran up a trail to the next climbable feature on the island, while I stayed behind, oblivious. When it seemed that he had been inside the caves and hideout too long, I went inside and couldn’t find him anywhere. Even though I knew he was most likely OK, I panicked. What if he had realized he was lost and had become terrified? I had written and placed in his pocket a card that said: “My name is Scotty. I am with my grandfather, Papa Cuno. His cell phone number is .” But it would take time for someone to find the note. Until then, Scotty could be wandering and desperately sobbing. Or have fallen on a rock and gotten a concussion. Or landed face-down in water.
I ran about, asking one person after another if they’d seen a toddler in a black hoodie. No one had. Finally I grabbed an employee who helped me search. “It’s a small island,” he said, “so he can’t be far.” Yeah, I know. But what if he was distressed or hurt or drowned?
A woman I’d talked to found him farther up the trail, climbing about on a mound of pirate treasure with a bunch of other kids. She told him his grandfather was looking for him, and brought him to me. Fortunately, Scotty had no clue that anything was amiss. He was having a blast, totally unaware that we’d lost sight of each other. I thanked the woman and made no scene. No need to traumatize Scott just because I had been!
My adrenaline level gradually subsided as we explored the rest of the island. I stuck to him like glue, no matter how cramped the space. It was great to see him have so much fun exploring, discovering, climbing. There were trails, caves, a treehouse, a fort, a pirate’s treasure, rope bridges that shook with every step, and hideouts. One of Scott’s favorite sights that we just had to visit one more time before leaving the island? A real caterpillar! He had noticed it crawling on a rock in one of the caves.
After the island, we headed to New Orleans Square for lunch. I had no hopes of the pirates ride or haunted mansion, but I really wanted to eat at the Blue Bayou Restaurant, long my favorite. But these days you need reservations. They had no openings for another eight hours, so we settled for lunch at the French Market. This was the first time I’d visited Disneyland since falling in love with the real New Orleans. It was fun to see how well Disney had recreated the architecture and overall look and feel.
Finding anything Scotty wanted to eat was a challenge. No burgers, hot dogs or mac & cheese for him. Yet — to my surprise — he espied some fresh fruit and wanted that. Good! He’s a pretty good vegetable eater, too.
After lunch, Scotty was ready for the hot tub again. As we walked through Adventureland toward our shuttle pick-up, I pointed out Tarzan’s Treehouse (formerly Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse). He immediately wanted to explore it. I was glad there was one more thing he wanted to do. There was no line. We explored the whole thing.
At Scott’s request, we also made another stop before returning to the hotel: the Buzz Lightyear store, at the ride’s exit. There I bought Scotty two Lego sets: one for ages two to four, that Scotty easily assembled himself, and one for age eight that I later assembled for him — with some difficulty. Age 8 my foot.
So it was back to the hotel to assemble the Lego stuff, followed by pancakes across the street at Denny’s, followed by the hot tub — with new friends to make and new adults to regale — followed by going to bed.
Somewhere amid all of that, we picked out a mug in the hotel gift shop for Auntie Kekka. Scott suggested we tell her we bought it in Disneyland. “We don’t need to lie,” I said. So, when we gave Kekka the mug, Scotty made a point of telling her that we didn’t get it in Disneyland, that we bought it at the hotel, but that that was OK because it still had Mickey Mouse on it.
I asked Scott if we should get a gift for Paula too. Visibly baffled, he asked why. I told him I just thought it might be nice. “No,” he said simply.
That was Tuesday, our only complete day in California.
On Wednesday we had only the morning in which to play, for we had to catch our airport van at 1:55. I thought Scott might want to spend the morning in the hot tub, but he surprised me again. He wanted to return to Toontown and take the Roger Rabbit ride. That was a nice surprise for me, since Monday he had turned up his nose at it. But when we reached Toontown, the Roger Rabbit ride was closed. “Broken,” said the Disney dude standing by, in language Scotty understood. Since Scott was up for a ride, I tried to convince him to instead try Peter Pan, Pinocchio or Mr. Toad. He would have none of it. He did, however, want to check out Disney’s California Adventure. Our passes were for both parks, so that was fine. We hopped on a horse-drawn trolley to return to the front gate. This ride, too, was at my insistence. But once aboard, Scott liked it. We sat right up front, next to the driver — and right behind the horse’s butt. It smelled like it. Scotty braved petting the horse’s hind flank and touching its tail.
Exiting Disneyland, we walked across the pavilion to Disney’s California Adventure. We had an hour left. Right inside the gate is a toy store that Scott wanted to explore. I thought, what the heck. It was what he wanted to do, and we likely didn’t have time for a ride anyway. He loved exploring the store. (While Scotty looked at toys, I took a call on my cell from Grandma. She wanted to know what time it was.) I told Scott I’d buy him one toy. As he hemmed and hawed as to what to choose, I pointed out a Spider-Man action figure. His decision was instantly made! Scott said it was a surprise to find Spider-Man there, since Spidey isn’t a Disney character. I was impressed that he knew the meaning of “character,” and seemed to get the concept of brand ownership.
After an hour in the toy store, we exited California Adventure and waited for our shuttle. As far as Scotty was concerned, we had “done” that park, too. As we rode out, together we looked back and called out, “Good-bye, Disneyland.” Scotty answered for the park in a deep voice. “Good-bye, Scotty and Papa Cuno,” it said. Then he waxed more creative, for a moment later it said, “Good-bye, Scotty underpants.”
We had an hour to kill in the hotel lobby waiting for the airport shuttle. Scotty sat with me and played with his Spider-Man. The Lego kits were packed away.
Over and over throughout the trip, I was delighted with how good natured and patient Scotty was. Other than mild resistance when it came to trying rides — and mild it was — he was polite, sweet and upbeat, notwithstanding interminable lines, long walks and repeated shuttle rides.
The airport shuttle had a video screen playing Tom and Jerry cartoons. They were the vintage ones, the funny ones. It made time pass quickly, such that we were both surprised when the driver told us we’d reached the airport.
In line to walk through the scanner, Scotty started doing a little jive dance, rapping, “Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, oh yeah.” It was cute as can be. The middle aged black woman in front of us got quite a kick out of this little white kid doing rap.
Once past the inspection, we found an in-airport McDonald’s. A small Superman action figure came with Scotty’s Happy Meal. As of this writing, it reigns as his favorite memento from the trip!
On our flight out two days earlier, Scotty hadn’t been able to see too well out the window. We were near the back of the plane, overlooking a wing. This time I asked an attendant if we could sit closer to the front. She managed to seat us immediately behind the first class section. I made sure Scott watched out the window during takeoff. This time he was fascinated as the ground, houses, cars and people got smaller and smaller. He was equally interested watching the ground come up at us as we landed in Salt Lake.
It was rainy and cold when we landed in Salt Lake at about 7:30 p.m. We drove to the South Towne Village Inn, where we met Auntie Kekka. Scotty had pancakes with sausage. Then it was home and to bed. That was our Wednesday.
Yesterday was Thursday. We lazed around the house in the morning. We played a few rounds of Old Maid. Scott explained that if he had the Old Maid at the end of the game, it meant he won, but if I had the Old Maid, it meant I lost. Made sense to me.
In the afternoon I told Scotty we were going to the dinosaur museum at Thanksgiving Point. Predictably, he said, “I don’t like that place.” He had never been there, of course. I calmly said, “Too bad, we’re going anyway.” The moment he saw the big dinosaur image on the building exterior, he was hooked. “Wow!” he cried out, “Look at that dinosaur!” We spent hours inside. He more or less raced past the displays, but he liked playing with the Erosion Table (hands-on with sand, flowing water and model dinosaurs, plus lots of other kids), and, in a separate section, with a hands-on exhibit having to do with light. At the entry to the light exhibit was a play area with a large box of wooden pieces. We sat for an hour or more building and then knocking down towers. Then we visited an area where he and oodles of kids enjoyed dusting and digging for dinosaur bones in a couple of huge sandboxes in a red-rock desert setting.
At about 6:30 we picked up Grandma and drove to Godfather’s Pizza for the buffet. On the way, Mom repeatedly asked if Scotty was doing well at my house and not lonesome for his parents. I began to worry that he’d overhear and get ideas, so I began cutting her off and answering before she could finish getting out the question.
I had to keep reminding Mom that pizza was finger food (“I don’t have a fork,” she each time she was ready to start into a new slice), and re-explaining how the buffet worked. (“If you want more,” I would say, “you just walk over there and serve yourself.” “This must be something new,” she answered each time. “I’ve never seen that before.”)
Autie Kekka joined us at about 7:30, after leaving work. After dinner, Scotty wanted to ride with Auntie Kekka to her apartment, so I took Grandma home by myself. On the way, I explained that Scotty was with me for the week because “my son and his wife” (Mom can no longer place them by their names) were on a cruise. Mom replied, “Do they have any children?”
Several times, Mom expressed appreciation for the fact that I include her in family outings. It was touching. “You are family,” I reminded her. “Yes, but,” she replied.
When I picked up Scott at Autie Kekka’s, he was playing with Tucker. Tucker was in a spunky mood, acting hyper right along with Scotty.
On the way home we stopped at Target for a few groceries and to pick up a checkers game.
That was last night, Thursday.
Now for today, Friday.
I awoke with a headache, so I rested as Scotty played video games. I also had to consult with Joe on a few business things. Scotty behaved well while I did.
Jeff Bacon was in town today. He came by as arranged at 11. After a brief meeting, the four of us went to Hires Big H for lunch. Both Joe and Jeff were fabulous with Scotty, and he loved being the center of attention. Thank god Hires serves corn dogs. He ate his right down.
Upon our return home, Jeff (Bacon) used my computer downstairs to work on some design for us while Joe worked in his office. Upstairs, I taught Scott to play checkers. He picked it up fast. Jeff came upstairs toward the end of Game 2. Using hand signals, Scott indicated that he wanted to play against Jeff. To watch them, you’d have thought they were long-established playmates. Jeff taught Scott about kings in checkers.
After Joe and Jeff left for the day, Scotty named two of the checkers. One is Jeff, the other is Joe.
This afternoon the kids to the east of us were playing outside. Scotty was bashful, but mustered the courage to walk over and join them. Then they played inside for a while. I checked with the neighbor to make sure it was OK. Their dad walked him back to my house at dinner time.
I served Scotty sausage links (he loves sausage!) and a mini pizza for dinner. Then we colored. I showed him that it’s OK to be creative as we added some original touches to his Spider-Man coloring sheets. At first he objected, but then began to see the fun in improvising. Then it was bedtime. He is sleeping as I write.
Scotty’s Disneyland Activities:
• Seeing Mickey and Goofy
• Exploring Mickey’s House in Toontown
• Exploring Goofy’s Playhouse
• Exploring Mini’s House
• Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters ride
• Lunch at Tomorrowland Terrace Restaurant
• Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage
• Eating fruit in Frontierland
• Disneyland Express Train Ride
• Autopia (driving the cars)
• Eating a churro!
• Alice in Wonderland Ride (his favorite)
• River raft ride
• Exploring Tom Sawyer/Pirate’s Island (caves, treehouse, rope bridges, pirate’s treasure, hideouts, trails)
• Lunch at French Market Restaurant
• Exploring Tarzan’s Treehouse
• Getting two Lego sets at Buzz Lightyear store
• Horse-drawn trolley ride
• Getting a Spider-Man in California Adventure
Some cute things Scott said, besides those noted above:
• “How come you have hair on your belly?”
• “How come your teeth are crooked like that?”
• “Smoking is cool.” OK, that one alarmed, not charmed, me. I just don’t know where else to write it down.
• When I forgot something: “You don’t have a very good remembery.”
• When Scott knocked over something delicate (it didn’t break): “This fell down very carefully.”
Added March 19, Saturday morning
Scott will be with me till 8 tonight, making seven straight days, almost to the minute. Right now he is again playing with the kids next door, affording me a bit of rest. By “rest,” I refer to picking up toys, laundering his clothes, cleaning the kitchen, putting away his foldaway bed, and collecting and packing his stuff which happens to be strewn throughout the place.
10 p.m.
Scott played with the neighbors for a couple of hours. Then I fixed us a frozen pizza to which I added sausage. It was a hit.
In the afternoon, we played more checkers. Then I thought, I don’t want Scott’s last day with me to be a boring one of killing time. So we went to see the movie, “Mars Needs Moms.” It was pretty good! Then I took Scott to McDonald’s where he nibbled at chicken nuggets between long bouts of working up a sweat in Playland. The place was packed with kids, which always makes it better for him.
Though I know Scott enjoyed Disneyland, and especially the idea of getting to go there, I suspect he actually had more fun at the dinosaur museum and at McDonald’s. Either way, I loved being able to treat him to all of the above.
After McDonald’s, we returned to my house and played some more checkers. Becca and doggies joined us a few minutes later. She played checkers with Scotty. He presumed to teach her how, and did a pretty darned good explanation. Then we three played Old Maid until Jeff’s arrival.
Jeff left with Scott only a few minutes ago. I already miss him. The house is so … empty. I feel … a little sad.
Balanced by a warm glow from a great week.
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Location:Disneyland
