My sons are going to Disneyland. This was not front page news when our family lived in Florida, fifty minutes from Micky, nor when our address was in California, three freeways from the Happiest Place on Earth. But now that we call Pennsylvania home, such an event is remarkable. Which is why I am remarking.
Lukas came up with the
plan to invite his three younger brothers to pack their bags and board planes. He didn't have to ask twice.
The first time Benjamin met Buzz Light-year in the flesh, or what is probably plastic, he jumped like a pogo stick. But it remains to be seen whether his response is muted by adulthood.
My contribution to the escapade is to sew pajama bottoms. Lukas sent links for possible fabrics, which I explored. One shipped from Hong
Kong which would not arrive in time. Another had a limit of seven yards, which did not suffice. A third listed at ten dollars, which is not an outrageous price for cloth, but then I realized that was for a quarter of a yard. It didn't make sense to pay as much for the pajamas as for entrance to the park.
I headed to my stomping grounds, Joann's, and was pleased to discover a shelf of possibilities, including Star Wars, Chewy, and R2D2. Over the next few days I
cut, sewed, and serged, being sure to include pockets for their phones.
The generosity behind this vacation is steep. The cost for three days of roller coasters, lunch with iconic characters, and a few pricey souvenirs is more than pocket change. What makes me ponder, is that Benjamin is oblivious. He knows that the crisp bills in his wallet that he earned cleaning bathrooms can be bartered for burritos at Taco Bell. But the differential between ten and a
thousand doesn't impress him. It is not that numbers elude him. He can name all the factors in a five digit number, should I ask.
But for Ben the joy is not tethered to the amount spent. Being with his brothers is in a whole different galaxy than a stack of hundred dollar bills.