The real Magic behind the Kingdom
I just had a serious conversation with Mickey Mouse. He is practically on speed-dial these days on the ol’ iPhone, and he may as well be listed under “iNeed some freakin help”. You see, we have taken a new approach to discipline with Little D – the art of the idle threat. You don’t want to sit and eat your dinner? No cartoons then. You want to kick and scream your way through bathtime? Santa is SO cutting you off his list. Forever.
Mickey has been the loaded gun lately. You see, Disneyland and all its Tinkerbell/Snow White/Jonas Bros madness is just down the road and we promised Little D that we would finally go to get our mouse ears on between now and Christmas. Provided, of course, that she keep up the angelic act and ditch the toddler-isms asap. And it worked. We found the real magic in the Kingdom – the power of the threat. And one that seemed to be foolproof. Suddenly, you mentioned “guess we can’t go to Disneyland then” and all order was restored, night or day. We started calling on Cinderella and Goofy regularly. We plead Pluto and Pinocchio on the hour. We pulled out an Ariel book and sadly told her that Little D won’t be part of her world any time soon, watching out of the corner of our eye as she slowly climbed off the arm of the couch and backed away.
We had won. Merci, Mickey! Danke schoen, Donald! Thank you Jonas Bros (whatever your names may be)!
And then tonight, the Happiest Place on Earth delivered nothing but fury. Dinnertime. Refusing to eat. Screaming. Running away. Crying hysterically. We pulled out our ammunition, and waited patiently for the shootout.
“Should I call Mickey and tell him we can’t come after all?”
“Are you sure? You don’t want to go and see Mickey and the princesses?”
“Yes, I am sure. Call him.”
Sweat beading along my brow.
“Ok, picking up the phone and calling him now.”
“Ok mommy, call him!” (as she runs in the other direction to her room)
Dialing away on the iPhone, I felt defeated. “Hi Mickey? Yes, we’re calling to tell you that Little D can’t come to see you this year after all, since you only like to see good little girls. Yes, yes, we understand. Maybe next year.”
I strained my ear to hear her reaction…nothing. Absolutely nothing. She could not care less.
I have a new verse for the famous “M-I-C…K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E” song. F-M-L.