Recently we took a mini-vacay to Disney. One of the perks of living in Florida. While at Hollywood Studios, we were talking about what rides Evie could go on at this age. At the time, I was pretty sure she was only 37″ tall. Maybe close to 38″. There’s really not a lot of options for kids under 40 inches, unless you are at Magic Kingdom.
Evie had wanted to get on the Tower of Terror with the two older girls. Unfortunately, I told her she couldn’t because you have to be 40″ tall. Boss baby was not very happy with this turn of events.
I tried to tame the beast: “Before you know it, you’ll be able to ride it, Evie. 40 inches isn’t that much taller than you are now. 3 inches really isn’t that much.”
Vince, hearing this news, interjects “Whoa, whoa, whoa! 3 inches is A LOT! What are you talking about?!?!”
I look at him, incredulous, that he’s not helping the situation. Then I realize what he is talking about. Like all boys, his mind is always thinking about one of three things:
- Sex
- Food or
- His penis (this is not the same as #1)
In this case, he was talking his penis and its size (or lack thereof). Three inches…
I laugh and so does Gianna and Scar because even they make this connection. This is how we bond as a family at Disney. Over penis jokes. I swear, sometimes I would love to have our lives filmed because this shit happens daily, and I think it’s pure entertainment.