Even on a Sunday evening in November, everyone and their mom's dog is at the Magic Kingdom. We decided to take Avery for another jaunt, seeing as she was griping about not getting to ride Space Mountain. It only goes upside-down three times; that's fine for a seven-month-old, right?

Of course I'm kidding. Space Mountain doesn't go upside-down. Everyone knows that.

When you've got a young child with you, though, you really begin to appreciate the resident pass. If we had to pay $71 plus tax every time we wanted to go to The Happiest Place In Bob Iger's Wallet (and trust me, that's a lot), we'd be pretty loath to leave when the kid started grumping it up. As it stood, we almost turned around and left as soon as we got there, and we wouldn't have had to feel bad about it. (Turned out all she needed was a milkshake.)

They say you can't spoil a baby, but I have a bad feeling about taking her to Disney World so many times as an infant. She'll have to learn that once we move home, it's not a trip we take just because it's Sunday. Earlier, the following dialogue took place inside my head:

"Mama, can we go to the Magic Kingdom?"
"No, honey, it's too far."
"But you have the day off!"
"This is true, but I still have to say no."
"We used to go all the time when you had the day off!"
"Sure, punkin, but that was when we lived closer than 2000 miles."

It'll be OK. After all, Albuquerque has its own amusement park. Who needs Big Walt when you've got Uncle Cliff?