Remember a couple of weeks ago, I said I'd made my last Disney trip for the season? My daughter talked me into another "one last trip" before the summer blockout weeks kick in. (It took a lot of arm-twisting. She said, "I want to go to Disney this weekend!" and I said, "OH YES! ME TOOO!" And we were off and running, making plans for the day. We are serious, unapologetic Disnerds.)
We did a few things we'd skipped on our previous trips. Every time we visited Delaney asked to go on the Tomorrowland Speedway, so Mom made a FastPass reservation. Mom had a headache and didn't want to ride, and those race cars are my least favorite thing to do at Disney. They're smelly and uncomfortable and are only like racing if you are under 9 years old. Delaney rode with her Daddy and loved it, while Mommy and I visited the gift shops for something for her headache.
And I hadn't been in the Carousel of Progress in, OMG, 20 years? It's as corny as ever. I can wait another 20 to do it again.
Mom and Dad got in a full day of roller coasters, hitting Space Mountain first thing, while Delaney and I went off to ride Buzz Lightyear. I actually enjoy this ride, and Delaney got her highest score yet and earned a promotion, from Star Cadet to Space Scout. She did this by making a command decision seconds into the ride. Her laser gun wasn't firing right, so she commandeered mine. I fired hers and she was right, it did have a sticky trigger that required more force than she could manage. Identify a problem, make a fast decision to advance her cause - she's a born leader.
It was fun. It was a LONG day again - we arrived before 9 a.m. and left the parking lot for home at 6 p.m. We were all exhausted. Delaney still managed to sing in the car on the way home, until she finally grew quiet. She was carried into the house like a sweaty rag doll.
It was a good day. Hot, but not too crowded. The threatened thunderstorms never happened. The crowd was tolerable.
I felt more than a twinge of guilt about leaving Murphy, but honestly, at this point, what will be, will be. We are beyond medical interventions, and he's not in pain, and I knew that there was a more than fair chance that he'd greet me at the door when I get home this evening, hoping I'd order another pizza. He did greet me, but didn't eat much, even when I hand fed him.
He seems to be making another gentle bump downhill. He's eating less, sleeping nearly all the time, is confused quite a bit. His eyesight and hearing are poor, but his confusion about what's going on is more noticeable now. But he ate goldfish crackers after rejecting dinner, and he's obviously in no distress. What will be, will be.