Dad and Mom were rushing us around to get in the car, and (as children often do) Brother and I were dawdling and taking our sweet time.
I wanted to watch TV or something.
Every time our parents would be rushing us out the door, either Brother or I would ask:
"Where are we going?"
To which one of them would reply: "Out."
So on this fine Sunday morning, either Brother or I asked: "Where are we going?" and Mom replied:
I don't think words can describe the excitement that swept over Brother and I...
So I drew a picture!
We were so poor!
We had never been to Disney Land before! I had classmates who had been (as I'm sure Brother did as well) but I could only imagine the spectacular-ness of it all.
They must have saved for years to afford this trip.
Needless to say, Brother and I flew around the house in a flurry of get-ready-ness and we were in the car and buckled in before my parents had time to lock the front door.
Excitedly we jabbered away in the backseat together.
What would Disney Land be like?
Were there rides? Food? Shows?
I was going to touch everything! I think Brother was planning on learning to fly.
It was so super-exciting-awesome-fantastical-face-yeah!
And then the unthinkable happened.
"Oh will you two calm down," Mom said, turning from her passenger seat to look at us,
"I was just kidding. We're not actually going to Disney Land, we're going to the flea market."
And that's why I hate flea markets.