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Sparkle (4)
Look, I grew up in Anaheim. Disneyland's fireworks exploded over our house every summer night, and I played Dopey the Dwarf in the Main Street Electrical Parade. I couldn't be more blasé about the house of Mouse, so if you told me that my former workplace would one day make me happy enough to cry, I'd have scoffed. But crying with happiness is exactly what happened during my autistic son Leo's birthday trip to Disneyland -- he had two full days of pure joy that melted my cold, hard, meh-filled heart. For my son, it really was a Magic Kingdom.
Leo hadn't been to Disneyland since 2004 because the interim years were challenging ones for him, behaviorally, and I wasn't sure if he and Disneyland were compatible. We plan Leo's excursions carefully and try to set him up to be a star, as when he's pushed past his tolerance levels he collapses, then goes supernova. That planning didn't seem entirely possible at Disneyland, plus I was worried about taking Leo to such a loud, bustling, potentially overwhelming place. But I also knew Disneyland was full of opportunities to immerse himself in beloved make believe worlds like Monsters, Inc., Toy Story, and Finding Nemo. The trip seemed worth the risk, and I figured we could always return to the hotel and go swimming if a retreat was in order.
I'm so glad we gambled, because Leo's visit was a huge success, and Disneyland turned out to his Land of Yes. He got to do exactly what he wanted all day long, directing the action according to his interests and impulses -- an unprecedented freedom for a boy with a heavily structured life. He was also never bored, which can be an issue for people with communication challenges. Because of a Guest Assistance Pass the Mouse thoughtfully provides for people whose behaviors make it difficult to wait in lines, Leo could get right back on any ride he liked, as many times as he wanted. (That pass also made him a hero in the eyes of his little sister Mali and eight-year-old cousin Christie, who got to tag along on all those instant-repeat rides.)
All that instant gratification was amazing for our boy. Leo went on Star Tours five times, Finding Nemo submarine ride four times, California Screamin' loop-de-loop rollercoaster twice, Tower of Terror, Monsters Inc., Splash Mountain, Toy Story, Haunted Mansion ... you name it. His grandmother and uncle can testify as to his continual giddiness, but I also shot video:
I just can't properly communicate how wonderful it was to have Leo accommodated nearly everywhere we went. The Guest Assistance Pass was the most visible evidence, but the park has also trained its staff well to support people with special needs. When my mother booked our breakfast at Disney's Storytellers Cafe, she told them that Leo has autism -- and they put us in the very farthest, quietest booth in that boisterous restaurant of freaky roving giant furry characters. (When the noise level rose, Leo kept himself calm via iPad.)
The characters were good with Leo as well. When Pluto approached him outside Space Mountain, my son used very direct vocalizations and gestures to discourage contact or any other interaction, and Pluto obliged graciously. When Mickey Mouse approached, Leo grabbed his nose inquisitively -- and Mickey laughed. I so appreciate it when any person or creature respects and responds appropriately to Leo's communication, regardless of the form that communication takes.
Several features that made our trip easier for Leo were simply great for families in general, like the on-site Grand Californian Hotel, which let us walk back to our room and chill whenever we needed to. We were also allowed to check into our room early at no extra cost since the room was already ready -- though if it hadn't been ready they would have held our luggage for us while we played, also at no extra cost.
Staying onsite meant it was easy to let Leo have his evening bath at the usual time -- a boy's gotta stick to some part
