On New Year’s Eve in 2018 we ate dessert at Disney’s Contemporary Restort Hotel. Afterwards, we took an elevator as high as we could get without a key card. Then we found an exit to the stairs on the outside of the building so we could watch the Magic Kingdom fireworks.
I’m not personally afraid of heights, but I am afraid of heights on behalf of my kids. You know, because of their general lack of life experience and understanding of things like heights. So we warned the kids to just stay away from the railings. Period. And they did. They were great. Whew.
I was holding my then 4-year-old while waiting for the fireworks to start. He expressed his worry that the wind might blow us and cause me to drop him off the edge. We were not standing close to the edge. I assured him I would never drop him. He asks why. I say, because I love you and also I’m not standing close to the edge. He accepts this.
At this point I could’ve stopped, but instead I helpfully added that I wouldn’t throw anything off the building, not even things I didn’t love. Like what, he asks? Like a pickle, I say. I wouldn’t even throw off a pickle and I hate pickles. Why? Because they’re gross. Why wouldn’t you throw it off? Because I wouldn’t wish a pickle upon my worst enemy. Not even a pickle traveling at its terminal velocity. He says he doesn’t like pickles either and that he’d throw them off.
But the truth is I’d throw pickles at my enemies. Willingly and happily. This works out especially well if my enemies like pickles. Maybe they’ll be like, hey thanks for the pickles. I won’t be your enemy anymore, pickle friend. You are now my pickle friend. Please throw more pickles at me. I want pickles. But then I’ll regret making my enemies into friends. So then I start throwing other things at my friends in an attempt to make them go away because I’m running out of money and I just want to go back to the way things were before I decided to throw pickles at people. So it’s just better if I never throw pickles at my enemies.
In closing, I would like to expound upon why I don’t like pickles.
You know how when you’re a kid and you hate food because it’s gross? But adults say it’s not gross and maybe you should just try it, for the love of everything holy? And then you’re like, I don’t know, you don’t seem that smart to me. You’re just bigger.
That is why I still hate pickles. I’ve gotten bigger than I was when I was 7, but I’m still just as smart. I may have forgotten that other things are gross, like onions and tomatoes, but I will not forget about pickles.