Prince Not-Charming

“Does my Prince Charming need a hug?” I crane my head back and see Cinderella in all her light-blue gown, sprayed bouffant hair splendor beaming back at me. No wait, she’s actually trying to catch the eye of my four-year old who has tucked himself under the metal drinking fountain of the Pixar Theatre, determined not to move until he has his way.

Yes, we’re having a “moment,” otherwise known as the dreaded public tantrum. To make matters worse, apparently a college kid dressed as a princess Disney character now believes she is his ‘dream come true.’

William leans sullenly against the back wall of the drinking fountain and kicks one leg out in response to Cinderella’s inquiry.

Disneyland employees, aka “cast members” do a remarkable job staying in character until they retreat behind “cast only doors” where I suspect they smoke a drag or chug down stale coffee before heading back out into the public brigade again (or so I assume).

Unfortunately, children tend not to stay in the character of good little helpers if they are tired, hungry, revved up from sugar overload or too stimulated from a certain Buzz Lightyear ride.

And part of me is thinking “A hug? Are you kidding me?” If only it were that easy. I’m not hunched under a water fountain for nothing, honey.

“Oh thank you Cinderella for the offer!” I respond, trying to exude the same bubbly demeanor to affirm to children everywhere that I, too, believe she’s a princess. I add, “But I think he just needs a little break.” No, duh.

Cinderella beams at us and I smile back. I can’t very well beam in my hunched position. She beams some more. I now nod back vigorously, a bobbing head of “he’s super-duper okay” assurance. She hesitates, but perhaps now recognizing she is a mere mortal compared to a Mom, she floats on down the side corridor.

After a long minute more of cool down time, my prince reaches up and I swoop him up into my arms. We continue merrily on our way to happily ever after, at least the Disneyland version.