That day in Tennessee, it was cold. Not just regular December cold, but that damp, drizzly chill and wind that bites through your coat and makes you question your life decisions, especially the one where you parked in extended parking. We had no coats, just hoodies, because we weren’t going to need coats where we were headed, and I had already told everyone Mama and Daddy was not carrying coats. So there we were, hauling bags through what felt like sleet, looking like a line of over-packed geese waddling toward the terminal.

We got inside the airport, got checked in, and started making our way toward the gate. The kids were buzzing with anticipation. Karen and I were buzzing with caffeine and prayer. Three of our kids had never flown on a plane, and they were asking questions every five feet.

Naturally, we spent about a million dollars on fast food. Because, you know—airport prices. Nothing says dream family vacation like dropping $72 at Burger King before even leaving the state.

But what the kids didn’t know was that Karen yet another surprise.

We’d invited a family friend, and their son just so happened to be Brighton’s close buddy, to come with us. On the way to the airport, smart-as-a-whip Brighton had asked, “Is anybody coming with us?” I gave a masterclass in the art of parental sidestepping. Didn’t say yes. Didn’t say no. Just kept it vague enough to not technically lie. He looked at me like, Okay, something’s up.

So there we were, in line at Burger King, when his buddy just walked up like it was no big deal.

Our kids’ heads snapped around.

“What are y’all doing here?”
“Wait… are y’all coming with us?
Cue second surprise reveal: executed perfectly. No snags. Full delight.

Brighton yelled, “I knew it! You lied, Daddy!”

I calmly reminded him, “Technically, I didn’t. I didn’t say yes or no.”
It was a proud moment. Honesty…with a bit of flair.

Once we finally got to the gate, the excitement hit a new level. They were about to get on a plane, bound for Disney World, with friends, family, snacks, and absolutely no idea what else was in store. We had a few more surprises planned.

They found their seats, claimed armrests, immediately started playing with tray tables, and started asking all the classic first-time flyer questions. Chloe had the window and immediately began snapping blurry wing photos like she was on assignment for National Geographic. Sophie was already nervous about takeoff. Grayson was a little wide-eyed and whispered, “What are those little lights outside the window?” I leaned over and said, “Those are buildings and cars, buddy.” He nodded like that explained everything and went back to fiddling with his seat belt. Brighton, meanwhile, leaned back with the smug confidence of someone who’d suspected the surprise all along.

Our kids were pros. No whining, no complaining—just full-on excitement. They couldn’t believe they got to pick out whatever soda they wanted, at 8:00 p.m., on a weeknight. Total vacation mode.

We landed in Orlando to humid temps in the 70s—a welcome change from the chill we left behind. Karen had booked transportation from the airport to Fort Wilderness, so we climbed onto a big passenger van where a kind gentleman helped me load our mountain of luggage. When you got a family of six, cars don’t work.

As soon as our driver got settled, he cranked up the radio…to a station playing nothing but Disney songs. Our kids sang along.

I glanced at the kids. They were still grinning, still buzzing from the flight and soda freedom, still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that this was real. That we were here.

We arrived at Fort Wilderness and picked up our golf cart, a vacation essential if your crew is large and occasionally directionally challenged. We made our way through the winding paths to our private cabin.

Why a cabin? Because we’re a big family, and after spending a full day traveling together, we needed some room to decompress. Trust me—magic needs margin.

We got inside, sorted sleeping arrangements, and took a collective exhale. Karen and I set an alarm for 6 a.m.—because Day One of our Disney adventure was about to begin.

And maybe, just maybe…Daddy wanted to build a light saber. OK, Daddy needed to build a light saber.

Thanks for reading Grit & Wit by Maury Wood! This post is public so feel free to share it.

Have a Happy and Safe Thankgiving!

Up, Up, and Away, Episode II