Parenting
By Jamie Thompson
Updated: Feb. 11, 2021
Originally Published: April 15, 2017
My partner, Sarah, and I had our three children gathered on the couch, eagerly anticipating a big surprise. Our eldest, Leo, aged 9, wore a superhero T-shirt and mismatched shorts, his hair in disarray. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, likely expecting the reveal of a new gaming console. Our middle child, Mia, dressed in her favorite fairy costume, radiated excitement—though it was unclear what she thought we were unveiling. Meanwhile, our toddler, Zoe, was absorbed in a movie on the iPad, which was the only way to keep her still for the big moment.
After a year of saving, we had finally managed to plan a family trip to Disneyland. This was a monumental achievement for us, working in education while living in a cozy home in rural Oregon. Our entire marriage has revolved around budgeting and saving, making this the biggest family vacation we had ever organized—three days at the park, a stay at the Disneyland Hotel, park hopper passes, the whole package. We had shared countless conversations about how thrilled our kids would be once we revealed the surprise. The anticipation was palpable; all our efforts seemed to be building toward this moment.
In the weeks leading up to the surprise, we spoke in hushed tones, plotting after the kids were in bed. We wrapped the passes in festive paper, complete with complimentary Disneyland luggage tags. Handing the package to Leo and Mia, we exchanged hopeful glances, both of us envisioning their excitement.
“What’s this?” Leo asked, peeling back the wrapping.
“Those are passes to Disneyland!” Sarah squealed, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
“Oh…” Leo replied, sounding as indifferent as if we had just announced PB&J for lunch.
Mia mirrored his reaction, and I felt a sense of deflation wash over me. I glanced at Sarah; her expression was tight-lipped, brows furrowed in disbelief. The tickets lay forgotten on the floor, while Leo donned his headphones, diving back into his game. Mia wandered off to her bedroom. No applause, no cheers, not even a hint of excitement.
What just happened?
As a parent, it’s easy to interpret moments like this in various ways. Perhaps our kids have become so spoiled that they don’t appreciate such surprises anymore. Yet, I doubt this is true; after all, our last family trip was five years ago when we drove to a free zoo in St. Louis.
Alternatively, maybe we had failed to instill in them the magic of Disneyland. I remember how much excitement surrounded trips to the Magic Kingdom in my childhood—conversations buzzing with anticipation among friends and family.
But I think the real issue was that we projected our own childhood emotions and expectations onto our children, assuming they would share our enthusiasm for experiences we cherished. Parents often do this; you see them on the sidelines of a soccer game, urging their kids to “have fun” while the child is more interested in picking at the grass.
Both Sarah and I had visited Disneyland as kids, and those memories were some of our most treasured. My visit with my father was particularly special, being one of the few pleasant memories I have of him before he left our family. However, I realized that our kids simply hadn’t had the chance to experience Disneyland yet. They didn’t know what to be excited about, and that’s why they shrugged it off. Unlike us, they lacked the emotional ties that would normally accompany such an announcement.
In that moment, however, I was taken aback and felt a sense of disappointment. I questioned my parenting skills. “Really?” Sarah said, her voice tinged with disbelief. She called Mia back into the room, excitedly telling her about the princesses she would meet and Snow White’s Castle. We talked to Leo about the thrilling rides and the Star Wars attractions. We even browsed online for videos of the various attractions, which finally piqued their interest. Gradually, their excitement began to build—success!
Ultimately, we had an unforgettable trip. The kids reveled in every minute of it. Now that they’ve experienced Disneyland, I’m certain their reactions would be much more enthusiastic if we were to surprise them again. What Sarah and I realized that day is that our children are still learning to navigate their world. They haven’t had the same experiences we did, and we can’t expect them to love what we loved simply because we did. Just because they don’t exhibit the same enthusiasm doesn’t mean they are spoiled; it simply means they are unique individuals shaping their own experiences.
And I’m genuinely relieved they enjoyed Disneyland, considering the investment it required.