Here’s Why You Shouldn’t Tell Your Kids You Are Going to Disney Without Them

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Next week I will be heading down to Orlando for the latest stop on The Balancing Act road show. I am really excited because I haven’t schmoozed with the fabulous Kristy Villa in person since I went down to North Carolina for the Raleigh road show back in April. I am also really excited because I am going down there alone, and what mom doesn’t get totally giggly at the prospect of going anywhere alone for a few days?

I actually would have considered taking my kids with me if not for the fact that:
a) I will be working and probably wouldn’t have time to take them to the theme parks anyway,
b) the trip does not coincide with any school holidays and,
c) I was just kidding, I really don’t want to take them, I was just being polite. I really want to go away by myself.

Usually when I travel for work, the news is greeted with about as much enthusiasm as a plate of lima beans at dinner. But this time when I announced my business trip was to Orlando, this was the response that I got:

“WHAAAAAATTTTTTT?!?!?!? You’re going to Orlando WITHOUT US?!?!?!?”

(BTW, those exclamation points and question marks are not exaggerated. They really did use that many when they whined!)

“It’s a business trip,” I told them. “I’m not going to be hanging out at Disneyworld. I’m going to a convention center.”

They weren’t buying it and immediately settled into full-scale deprived children mode, complete with excessive scowling, lower-lip thrusting, angry looks in my direction and the silent treatment.

When that didn’t work, my daughter walked around the house humming “It’s a Small World After All.”

At dinner, my son sculpted his mashed potatoes into a pair of mouse ears.

My daughter scrubbed the kitchen floor while wishing for a prince to come.

They started calling the dog Nana.

I found copious amounts of fairy dust all over the kitchen counters.

Dozens of Dalmation puppies appeared in my living room and peed on my rug.

“OK guys, I get the point. You are miffed that I’m not taking you to Orlando with me,” I finally said at dinner after I found what appeared to be a poisoned apple on my plate with a tag that said “eat me!” on it.

They glared at me.

“Tell you what. I really can’t take you on this trip with me, but I will plan another trip for all of us to go down to Orlando together later this year, OK?”

They conferred with each other and nodded in agreement. Then my daughter got up and went to the phone.

“Who are you calling?” I asked.

She shrugged innocently. “I need to cancel the dwarves.”

©2011, Beckerman. All rights reserved.
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