Where Is World War III Going to Start?

cinderella castleIran? No. I think we made some real headway with the Argo release.

North Korea? Nah…that guy is all talk.

Afghanistan? No way. Now that Bin Laden is gone, they just need a plan for revitalization..kind of like Camden.

No sir. The “Axis of Evil” is nothing compared to the Meyer kitchen table.

“What, who, why?” you ask?

It was Maisy, in the kitchen, with the cello. Victim: mois.

Our pefectly peaceful dinner was turned on it’s head because of an upcoming trip to Disney World.

Yes, that’s right. We are taking the kids to Disney World for an extended weekend in May.

And, Maisy will never forgive me for it.

A few months ago, dear friends of ours who own a place near Disney invited us down for a few days. I spent an entire morning cashing in rewards, redeeming companion fares and triumphantly booked 5 non-stop tickets to Orlando –for dirt cheap. Oh–the only catch is they were non-refundable.  Knowing that might be the case, I poured over work and school calendars. I arranged my call schedule and rescheduled patients. Chris did a triple switch with his partners. We bribed Simone to house and dog sit. And,  lastly, I poured over the school calendar.  PSSAs will be over. Musical–done. Shakespeare play–the next week. Band Concert– two days before we leave. I elatedly tell my friend and buy park tickets…I. LOVE. DISNEY. (shut up it is the happiest place on earth)

Tonight, I am in mid-swallow when I hear Maisy say something about the orchestra concert on May 13.

“What? What did you say Maize?”

“The strings concert..it’s on May 13.”  she announces.

My subtle glance at her Dad is lost on him as he plows my perfect potatoes into his face. It is not, however, lost on her.

She is ashen.

“What…no…don’t tell me…..WE ARE GOING TO BE AWAY?????”

I am not sure I actually spoke. All I know is suddenly forks are slammed and dishes clang. In a split second she is standing up –”…so NOT FAIR…how could you…I practiced ALL year… I might get first chair…and a solo!”

My appetite has evaporated–but Chris happily chews on.

Moments later my dread is deepened. A quick look on the school website confirms that the BAND concert is in fact on May 6 but ORCHESTRA is on the 13th.  Since the cello is a STRING instrument (a fact I know because my daughter has been playing for 7 years) it will be featured in the ORCHESTRA concert–not BAND.

I am instantly on the phone with US Airways — home of the second worst customer service I have ever encountered (Comcast is first.)

“Sure.” the lovely lady tells me after I have entered my confirmation number, credit card number, zipcode, and date of my first period. “We can put you all on a flight two hours earlier.”

“For a change fee …of $150.” Ok I murmur, my daughter’s sanity is worth a buck fifty.

“Per ticket” she goes on. “Plus any change in fare…and it looks like the earlier flight is $155 more..PER TICKET.” I am no mathematician but quickly I surmise that this one hour concert is going to cost us over $1500. No freakin’ way.

I tell Chris. I know when he hears the cost, he will side with me.

He says nothing.  Just stares pensively at me. The silence is abbreviated only by the sound of Maisy’s racking sobs.

Fancying himself the Dalai Lama, he speaks slowly and with purpose–kind of like you would to a mentally challenged person.

“Well…honey…..she……has….practiced…..ALL….year…..for……this…….concert…..”

“That’s it!” I scream.  “You can all take this  trip and burn it for all I care…and I am never planning anything for this family again…you plan your own stupid trips…see if I care.”

Yes, I see now the absurdity of “burning the trip.”  Regardless, my position on the matter is now clear to all involved.

Chris is trying to come up with a compromise–”What if just me and her come home early ? That’s only $750…”

No way. I am not splitting my family onto two flights.  No, I am not worried about one of us crashing leaving the other half devastated. I just can’t get through security in Orlando with Hadley by myself.

“Maybe Maisy can just stay home with the grandparents for the weekend?” I don’t love the idea of leaving her behind but she seems to tolerate that option.  She really is barely a tiny bit torn about missing a weekend of fun with her parents and siblings.

Tears are being wiped away. Breathing is commencing. Chris hands me a Corona and a feeble smile.

“It’s OK,” he says…”this is just life stuff…it’s all good…M will realize in the morning that it is not the end of the world.”

I know he is right but if only the UN had sanctioned a bit sooner, maybe then I could have at least finished my dinner.

 

Comments

  1. SOFIA says:

    Just got back… 1 husband, 1 five year old and I. Not the happiest place on earth. Lol. A man that could’ve been about 50 yrs. old plowed my five yr. old to the ground to get onto a stitch ride at magic kingdom. My Scorpio hubby grabs him by the collar and sternly says in his best Philly voice…”did u bump your head? you just crashed my kid to the ground , you ass”… We triumphantly get on the ride in front of “ass” man and bang our way through crowds for the next 4 days. ( I did love the fireworks)

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