The boy behind us in line couldn’t have been more than 4 years old. I tried to ignore the first 10 or 15 minutes of whining. “I’m boooooooooooooooored. This is so booooooooooooooooring. Dad, why are we in this booooooooooooooooring line?” I surreptitiously glanced over my shoulder to see who could be so bored while standing in line for the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad roller coaster.

He barely fulfilled the 35″ height requirement. Fairly nondescript little fellow. Brown hair, brown eyes. Grating voice. His father, on the other hand, was a giant. At least 6’5″, Grizzly Adams beard, wife-beater t-shirt advertising the merits of Monster Truck racing. At the same time I glanced over my shoulder, the father bellowed, “YOU ARE NOT BORED! YOU ARE AT DISNEYLAND! YOU WILL LIKE THIS RIDE! YOU WILL HAVE FUN!”

This continued until 30 minutes later when we were strapped into our roller coaster seats. The ride lasted all of 2 minutes, and, just as the father promised, it was fun. As we jerked to a stop then exited, I heard the little fellow screaming, “Dad! Dad! That was so much fun! Let’s do it again!” The father, with the hint of an “I told you so” on his face, animatedly replied, “We’re off to the Matterhorn! Another fun ride!”

At which point the little one began anew, “That’s boooooooooooooooring. I don’t wanna ride the Matterhorn. Disneyland is booooooooooooooooring….”

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