Disney felt expensive. Overwhelming. Designed for long days and big energy — not for a five-year-old who still needs breaks and bedtime. But Disneyland was different. Smaller. Walkable. Manageable. So we went.
And somewhere between flying over London on Peter Pan’s Flight, racing through Radiator Springs, and watching her twirl in a line of little princesses, I realized something.
We weren’t trying to maximize the park.
We were choosing the moments.
This wasn’t the Disney trip where we did everything.
It was the one where we were fully present.
And that made it magical.
