o 0df2dc86c31d22a8

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Authors: Unknown
U.S.A.
    In line for “Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln.”
    Ted was the one who suggested this.
    He’s regressing.
    So’s Dad. When we passed the old fire engine, he called out, “Ducky! Fah-oh tuck!” Like you’d find it SO CUTE to be reminded of what you said as a child, in front of five dozen tourists who are probably wondering what TWO GROWN SONS are doing in Disneyland with their
    parents.
    You smiled and walked away. You sent him a telepathic anti-humiliation warning.
    You forgot to send them to Ted. Soon you were watching the barbershop quartet and he began SINGING ALONG. Loud.
    While you backed away in horror, Dad egged him on and Mom pulled out her videocamera [sic]
    to RECORD him — all the while telling everyone in earshot about his upcoming show in
    college.
    Endure, Ducky. Endure. Abe Lincoln had it worse at your page.
    He’s about to tell you how.
    For the hundredth time.
    Waiting outside
    the Enchanted Tiki Room
    Another line.
    Screaming, squirming kids.
    Now Dad is pulling Ping-Pong balls out of his pocket. To do MAGIC TRICKS.
    Why?
    WHY?
    WHY?
    In Which Ducky Eats Humble Pie
    OK, you have to admit it.
    He isn’t bad.
    No David Copperfield, but not bad.
    The kids loved him. They asked for autographs. Their parents took pictures.
    Then he gave you the Ping-Pong balls. So YOU started doing tricks. The way he taught you.
    What else could you do?
    Hey, it made the wait easier. Always did, even when you were a kid.
    The Enchanted Tiki Room was an anticlimax.
    Maybe they should put some feathers on Dad and make him part of the act.
    The Tale of Wild Woman Mom
    (Written Aboard the Disney Railroad)
    She’s brave. She’s smart. She remembers what EVERYONE likes, and she won’t waver in her path to each ride in the right order. “No, Herb. Ducky hates that ride. We have to go to Frontierland. … Ted has to see the sailing ship. … Save your appetites for the Blue Ribbon Bakery, guys!”
    Not only that, folks, she remembers EVERY event from EVERY family trip. She’ll tell you things you’ve forgotten:
     You once threw a tantrum in the penny arcade.
     A Pluto-teer (or whatever they call those people in Pluto costumes) scared you so badly you shrieked until you fell asleep in your stroller from exhaustion.
     You used to have nightmares about the Pirates of the Caribbean, and for months
    afterward, anyone with an eye patch made you cry.
    When you mention Haunted Mansion, she says, “Ducky, are you SURE you want to go in
    there?” As if you’re STILL scared of it.
    Ted’s teasing her.
    That’s OK. Mom’s cool. She can take it.
    She’s got his barbershop quartet singing debut on tae.
    Blackmail is the best revenge.
    Frontierland
    Tom Sawyer Island
    The caves have gotten so much smaller.
    So have the keelboats.
    And you can’t actually steer them with poles.
    Didn’t you used to be able to do that?
    Or did you just imagine it? The way you imagined you were Davy Crockett and Alex was Mike Fink, battling it out on the river?
    Or did Alex play Davy while you were Mike?
    Whatever.
    C U real soon!
    Y? Because we like U …
    And so, the McCraes depart the Kingdom, bellies full, smiles on their faces.
    How was it?
    Weird. Fun.
    Wrong. Right.
    Ted’s happy. He met a girl and got her phone number.
    Mom and Dad left the park holding hands and smiling.
    You didn’t mind it, overall.
    Tomorrowland was a little tough. That was Alex’s fave. Especially Space Mountain. You felt a little guilty that you didn’t ask him to come along.
    But don’t kid yourself.
    He would have said no.
    Besides, this was a family outing.
    You need them once in awhile [sic].
    Sunday
    Writing Fast
    In Alex’s room. Alone.
    He’s in the shower.
    He was supposed to be ready for rock climbing by 9:30. You got here on time. But Mrs. S told you he was asleep. “You go wake him up. I can’t.”
    You climbed up here. You knocked and opened the door.
    The smell hit you first. Musty, stuffy, like he hadn’t opened a window in

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