“Who do you want to ride with?” piped Josiah expectantly as we approached Peter Pan’s Flight and a disappointingly melodramatic Peter Pan and Wendy.

“Can I ride with you?” I asked, deciding as “Wendy” made a huffy face not to waste my time waiting for a picture with her and the chubby Peter Pan.

“Sure,” he replied matter-of-factly, taking my cold hand into his tiny, satisfied, warm one.

My first trip to a Disneyland was the not-so-scary Halloween Party at Disneyland Paris. Used to the thrill of roller coasters at Six Flags Over Texas, I quickly discovered that one of the problems with Disneyland Paris is that most of the rides are geared towards young children…should have known. Luckily, I went with a family of two young boys so when my 21 year old head got in the way, I looked to the two boys and lived vicariously through their excitement. The most bizarre ride was It’s a Small World. We floated through a maze of dolls of all nationalities singing in English about the size of the earth while bright lights of every color burned my retinas, adding to the headache created by the synchronized whirring of mechanical arm waving, leg kicking, lip miming, head bobbing, body spinning figurines crowding each scene. As we passed the African fetishes and approached a mermaid who sounded as if she needed help with a clot in her throat, I thought this is the last ride I would choose to get stuck in.