Need I declare winner for you? Ahem, just in case y’all don’t know me that well yet…The Barn wins hands (and hooves) down.
Long story, short: made the ever so “American” trip To Disneyland. Nothing against it, my friends, I nearly grew up there–being born and raised not far from the happy lights of D town. Many years and a lifetime away, I didn’t necessarily have plans to go back. Geez the pressures of parenthood. Can’t all you parents tell your kids not to preach Disney to my kids? Well, my daughter’s been asking and asking. I kept telling her “you have to be at least 9 years old to enjoy it”. Right? Well, number one: I learned my lesson about never giving an age or a date. Just keep saying “someday” or “when you’re older”. KEEP SAYING IT, next thing you might know is you never had to subject your family to this ridiculous stress. And number two: I took her to Disneyland. We drank the kool-aid. We did the family vacation for her 9th birthday celebration.
For the sake of time, brevity and the fact that I’m sure you all don’t need another visitor’s guide to Disneyland…I’ll just say I’ll take the barn. I’ll take a quiet trail ride in the fresh open air. I’ll take the REAL. I’ll even take the hard work. The mucking stalls in muddy rain boots while the world passes me by. The freedom of flight over a jump. The smile on my daughter’s face when she rounds that last barrel and flies home to the clock at a 4H ride. If I’m going to be sweaty, sore, have dirt in my mouth and be in a really bad mood it’s going to be from getting bucked off a darn horse, not from spending the day at the “happiest place on earth”.
I worried, for a second, that this post may come off as negative. But then I remind myself that anyone who begs to differ with my rendition of happiness…well, they have probably never had the privilege of living in a barn.