My partner, Alex, and I gathered our three kids on the couch for a special surprise. Ethan, our 9-year-old, sported a well-loved video game T-shirt and mismatched shorts, his hair tousled and eyes sparkling with anticipation. He likely thought we were about to unveil a brand-new gaming console. Meanwhile, our 7-year-old, Mia, twirled in her favorite princess dress, bubbling with excitement over whatever was to come. Our toddler, Lily, sat absorbed in a movie on the iPad, our only trick to keep her still for the big reveal.
After a year of saving, we were finally taking the family to Disneyland. This wasn’t just a whim; it was a significant milestone for us. Both Alex and I work in education, and we live in a cozy little house in rural Oregon. Our entire lives together have revolved around budgeting and saving, so this trip would be our biggest family adventure yet—three days at the park, a stay at the Disneyland Hotel, and park hopper passes. We’d spent countless evenings discussing the joy we hoped to bring to our kids. We imagined their delight and how every penny saved would be worth it. For weeks leading up to this moment, we spoke in hushed tones, planning every detail after the kids went to bed.
On the day of the reveal, we wrapped the passes and complimentary luggage tags in festive paper. With smiles exchanged, we handed the package to Ethan and Mia, eagerly anticipating their reactions.
“What’s this?” Ethan asked, his expression flat.
“Those are your Disneyland passes!” Alex exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement.
“Oh…” Ethan replied, as though we’d just told him we were having peanut butter and jelly for lunch.
Mia echoed his nonchalance, and it felt as if a balloon had popped inside me. I glanced at Alex; her expression mirrored my disbelief. The tickets lay forgotten on the floor. Ethan had already slipped on his headphones, lost in his game, while Mia wandered off to her room. There were no cheers, no clapping, just a collective shrug.
What just happened?
As a parent, it’s easy to misinterpret moments like this. Perhaps our kids were too accustomed to surprises, or maybe we had failed by not instilling in them the magic of Disneyland. I remember my own childhood trips to the Magic Kingdom—legendary stories that adults shared, filled with wonder and excitement.
But upon reflecting, I realized that we often project our own emotions and experiences onto our children, assuming they’ll automatically share our enthusiasm. It’s a common pitfall for parents; you see it in sports, too, where parents scream “Have fun!” while their child picks dandelions on the field, utterly disinterested.
Both Alex and I had fond memories from our childhood visits to Disneyland. I recall my trip with my father, a rare, good memory amid a sea of neglect. But our kids were different; they simply hadn’t experienced Disneyland yet. They didn’t know what to expect, so they remained indifferent. Their lack of excitement didn’t reflect ingratitude; it was simply a sign of their unique perspectives.
In that moment, I felt a wave of confusion wash over me. “Really?” Alex pressed. “You don’t care?” She encouraged Mia to come back and shared stories of the princesses and enchanted castles. We talked to Ethan about the thrilling rides and iconic characters. Gradually, as we explored videos online, their interest sparked, and smiles began to appear. Success!
Ultimately, our trip to Disneyland turned out to be amazing. The kids relished every moment. Now that they’ve experienced it, I’m confident that if we surprised them again with passes, their reactions would be entirely different. The lesson learned was that we can’t expect our children to share our excitement for experiences they haven’t yet had. They are unique individuals in their own right, growing up in a different world.
And while their initial reaction might have been underwhelming, I’m just relieved they enjoyed the trip—after all, it was a significant investment!