(By the Way)

I’m aware that I use a lot of parenthetical phrases in my writing (to either clarify what I’ve written or briefly digress from the topic). Not sure why I do it, but it seems to be the way my thinking works. And sometimes they’re probably not needed (like right now) but I can’t seem to help myself. Maybe it’s the way my brain is always over analyzing everything (I’ve already revised this post three times).

My husband would probably say that I always have an additional comment (if I’m honest, criticism) about everything and rarely let him have the last word (although he speaks up way more than I do in group/classroom settings…love you, hon :)). It’s as if I’m always trying to get one last detail (opinion) out there before I finish my thought. Or maybe I’m just trying (usually not succeeding) too hard to be clever or funny. I do have a tendency to editorialize a bit (endlessly).  It’s probably most accurately explained by the fact that my brain is going in multiple directions pretty much all of the time (courtesy of my husband-, child-, pregnancy-, career-, and most recently coupon clipping-filled life) and so even my sentences have pretty regular digressions. I’m pretty fond of commas and em dashes too (when they’re used correctly); and technically, parentheses de-emphasize text while em dashes bring focus (I guess I prefer subtlety). Now that I’ve recognized my problem, maybe I can try to minimize it (or just embrace my quirks and let the side comments continue to fly).   

Plug for the Disney Machine

We recently took a little family trip to southern California. No, this post will not be a travel log of our every move. Just wanted to share one impressive moment:

As we were leaving Disneyland for the last time, in the evening just before fireworks (we didn’t stay in the park for the fireworks, but instead watched them from the hotel balcony across the street in order to minimize the big “booms” that petrify Halle) we saw Mickey close to the front entrance. Halle desperately wanted to say goodbye to him before we left. As usual, he had a whole line of people in front of him waiting for autographs and pictures. Just as we were about to get in line, a “Disney Bouncer” (as I called them) showed up and told us all that Mickey couldn’t see any more people because he needed to head to the castle for the fireworks. Halle didn’t understand that at all and still waited patiently, expecting him to notice her. 

Hubby had the idea to move in the general direction of the castle and wait there, knowing that Mickey would eventually walk that way. As we stood there and as Mickey continued to interact with the few people left in line to see him, Halle kept calling out to him, hoping he would notice her. It broke my heart. I thought to myself, “Great, we had a fantastic time these last two days and all she’ll remember is how Mickey snubbed her before we left.” 

Hubby was right (as usual) and Mickey eventually headed in our direction as he waved to everyone around him. To my surprise, he headed right toward Halle and another little boy standing to her right. He gave the boy a hug and then walked over to Halle, bent down to her level, and gave her a high five. The look on her face was priceless. In her mind, she and Mickey were tight, best pals, friends forever. She felt special. I could have grabbed Mickey right then and there and given him a huge smooch. I didn’t (Hubby, I’m sure, is glad I spared him the embarrassment). I just smiled back at my beaming little girl and shamelessly exaggerated her moment. That “Mickey” was trained very well—trained to notice every child in his general area and do whatever he could to reach out to them, even while trying to make his exit. I was impressed. Well done, Disney. Well done.