Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig, Episode IV
Exhausted feet, empty wallets, and full hearts—why our Disney trip was worth every mile.
We’d walked over 15 miles, spent more money than I’d like to admit, and somehow still smiled through it all. This wasn’t our first family trip, but it was one we’ll be talking about for a long time. From lightsabers and princess hugs to sore feet and cracked phone screens—this was the kind of chaos that builds core memories. So before we close the book on this Disney adventure, here’s what stuck with me the most.
When we unloaded at the airport, my lightsaber bumped Karen’s hand, knocking her phone to the ground and cracking her screen. So yes, she got a souvenir, too. A new phone out of the deal. You’re welcome, Karen.
Each kid had their little snapshot in my head. Sophie and Chloe had no hesitation standing in line to meet princesses. They knew they weren’t real. Didn’t matter. They still wanted the autographs, the hugs, the full Disney moment. I get it. Sometimes you play along not because you believe—but because believing is part of the fun. Grayson waving at a robot car just because he thought for a moment, it was talking to him, was a great one, too. Brighton, who wanted to act like a young man, acting cool until we lifted our lightsabers in the air and turned them on was a great memory as well. He turned to look at me and whispered, “OK, this is pretty neat.”
Every night in our cabin, when we finally crawled into bed, Karen and I would collapse into sleep. I’d wrap my arm around her and whisper, “Today was a good day.” And without fail, she’d answer with a hug and say, “Yes, it was.”
After any trip, you always reflect and wonder. We’ve been on family vacations before where we looked at each other and thought, “We will not be going there again.” But this one? This one mattered.
It mattered because each kid got to do something they wanted. It mattered because nobody fussed, nobody argued, mostly because we were all too tired to care. The cabin was great, sure, but we realized all we really need on these trips is a place to sleep. We were up early, showered in shifts, gone all day, and back after dark just to collapse and do it all again. The room was background. The memories were front and center.
Yes, Disney makes your money disappear faster than you can say bippity boppity boo. I saw a man with a shirt that said, “I’m not going to financially recover from this.” I nodded and said to myself, “Me neither.” But was it worth it?
Heck yes, it was worth it.
We had family t-shirts made. We let the kids help pick where we’d eat and which rides we’d hit next. How do I know it stuck? Because our kids still talk about it. Karen and I just got to sit back and watch life happen. We took a lot of pictures, but the best ones? The best ones are in the photo album of our minds.
If you’re on the fence about taking your family to Disney—just do it. That became our mantra. We knew it would cost a lot. We knew we’d walk until our feet begged for mercy. We knew the days would be long.
But none of that compares to the magic of shared wonder.
The moment I keep going back to? It wasn’t a ride or a show or a meal. It was the unboxing of the trip itself. The shock on our kids’ faces when we said, We’re not going to school today. We’re getting on a plane. That moment—that spark—is one I’ll never forget.
I still watch that video when I need a reminder of why we do all this.
Why we became parents.
Why we say yes even when it’s hard.
It’s to love our kids.
To make memories.
To say yes to wonder.
And to mean it when I whisper at the end of the day,
“Today was a good day.” And without fail, Karen answers with a hug and say, “Yes, it was.”