I never wanted to go to Disney. I don’t like the idea of enforced fun, and prefer it to bubble up spontaneously. So, the “Happiest Place on Earth” was best avoided as it would inevitably be a downer. Then I had children and moved from Europe to North America, where Disney has near-mythic status, and the barrage of requests began. Over here, children seem to consider a visit to the Magic Kingdoms as a rite of passage, and no one felt more entitled to it than my 15-year-old daughter, Phoebe, who now admits she thought she was Elsa from Frozen for a good portion of elementary school. An added layer of pressure: Phoebe has a form of cerebral palsy, which makes walking difficult, and finding family holidays where she and my eight-year-old son, Markus, can have equal fun is a challenge.
Family magic at the Cinderella Castle. Photo: Courtesy of the author
That is how, on an unusually crisp January morning in Orlando, Fla., I ended up at the Walt Disney World Resort, pushing Phoebe in a wheelchair covered in purple LED lights. I thought she would reject the wheels, because at home in Toronto she is embarrassed when she has to use mobility aids, even though she can only walk for a few minutes before having to rest. However, instead of feeling self-conscious, she felt like the star of the show. Everyone from park attendants to park-goers was telling her how cool her wheelchair looked. She, in turn, was grinning back at them, tossing her blond, Elsa-like hair and high-fiving anyone within striking distance.
Phoebe gets rolling! Photo: Courtesy of the author
What happened next was truly magical: Phoebe’s disability became a ticket to fun. We had paid an extra $20 each for a Lightning Lane Pass, which meant we could skip the usual standby line. (FYI, the price varies according to when you’re visiting.) But if the queue at the Lightning Lane was too long, we could use a free pass, issued by Disney’s Disability Access Service, to get a guaranteed time to ride. For neurodiverse people with anxiety like Phoebe, and for their stressed-out families, this is a godsend. The extra happy-making effect? Rather than feeling she’d made things harder for us, Phoebe felt she’d smoothed the way. As we rolled up, a smiling attendant would ask if Phoebe was “able to transfer” – walk from her wheelchair to the ride – and when she said yes, they whisked the wheelchair away and had it waiting when the ride was over. The system is seamless and quite mind-boggling when you consider Disney World gets 159,000 visitors a day, on average, in an area that is 25,520 acres.
Life’s a rollercoaster ride. Photo: Courtesy of the author
We did all four parks on consecutive days – Magic Kingdom, Animal Kingdom, EPCOT (celebrating technological innovation and international culture) and Hollywood Studios – and each one had a unique joy. I’ve been on safari in South Africa, and thought Animal Kingdom would be a pale imitation. But, as we bumped through the Harambe Wildlife Reserve ride in a rugged safari vehicle, I found myself equally as excited. Giraffes elegantly nibbled on trees, rhinos rooted in the dust, elephants drank from a watering hole, lions lazed about and wildebeest and zebras roamed the grasslands.
Lions and zebras and giraffes, oh my! Photo: Courtesy of the author
The pinnacle for Phoebe was Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge at Hollywood Studios, because she has been obsessed with the movies since she turned 12. It was no surprise to her when Kylo Ren suddenly appeared in front of us flanked by intimidating-looking Storm Troopers searching for Jedi in the crowds of the planet Batuu marketplace. Phoebe gasped in horror as he stopped and asked her to reveal where the Jedi were. While we were trying to hide from Ren, Markus and my husband went to fly the Millennium Falcon – something Phoebe and I were too scared to do, after feeling sickened by the G-force of the Mission: SPACE ride at EPCOT. This is the beauty of a Disney vacation: No one is left behind.
I saw tons of families taking advantage of the multi-generational ease Disney allows, including a preponderance of older grandparents with walkers or scooters, beaming as they watched their grandchildren’s dreams come true. As the Happiest Place on Earth implies, there were no squabbles, differences of opinion or meltdowns in our family. Phoebe never felt jealous of Markus, and he was thrilled to share the experience with his big sister. Everyone around us was so occupied, so uplifted, that the bliss rippled out. The rich tapestry of humanity was there with one mission: to have fun.
Phoebe and Markus hanging out with Pluto at the Epcot Center. Photo: Courtesy of the author
I managed to time it so we were there for Phoebe’s birthday, which we mentioned to Disney a couple of weeks before, in the required interview with Disability Access Service to discuss her challenges. When we entered the park, she got a special badge to wear so everyone knew it was her big day. Rather than feeling alienated and alone, which is all too common with special needs children navigating their teen years, she felt like the whole world was her friend. And for once, I didn’t have to be her bestie, confidante and cheerleader. I could just be her mother.
