Our family spent Father's Day at Disneyland. Ken had decided early in his fatherhood status that getting us all to Disneyland would be the gift he wanted for himself on Father's Day. The kids loved it! So, from the time he was in diapers, no, in uterus, Brian experienced Disneyland with the family on Father's Day.
The day went something like this: I would complain that we couldn't possibly enjoy a place that was so predictable, year after year. The kids would protest loudly that it was a tradition and we couldn't break such a tradition; and Ken would respectfully nod in my direction and promise he'll think of something else or someplace else to go to the following year.
One year Brian convinced me that I should join him on the Matterhorn Ride, even though I was not fond of such rides. I hated it. For years since, as each new ride appeared to thrill the family more and more, I sat behind and waited for them to get their fill of the thrill.
One year Brian convinced me that the ride at Space Mountain or...was not as bad as I thought, and that I would actually enjoy it. I went, and just a few minutes into the ride, I was furious. When the ride stopped, I was so mad I could barely contain myself.
Yet, aside from my aversion to rides, the evenings at Disneyland turned out great. Later, when friends and significant others joined us, we hardly saw our children, except for the end activity, a ride at the Pirates of the Caribbean and a meal at the Cajun Cafe overlooking the Pirates'.
Later, as Ken drove us home, each child donning some hat or trinket from his/her favorite ride, we'd talk about the day, and everyone, including me, would agree that Disneyland had not disappointed us on such a memorable day.
