Mrs. McHugh- Magic is Real

The sparkly blue tulle dragged along the very public concrete floor of the XL center as her eyes consumed the attractions left and right. Flashing rainbow-colored bubble wands lit up the concourse and colorful striped slushies tempted young tastebuds while puffs of blue cotton candy paraded by on massive rods carried by vendors. The tulle collected the dirt and germs of the thousands in attendance that night, despite her mother’s hopes of keeping it clean, but along with the dirt, it couldn’t avoid billowing in the magic that electrified the air as audience members settled in anticipation of the show. 

After carefully weighing the options, she settled on a slushie housed in a magical cup with the faces of Anna and Elsa beaming on each side; her most favorite of the princesses. The cup was filled with a rounded scoop of ice shavings, soaked in stripes of red, yellow, and blue flavoring. As she studied the vendor’s scooping and squirting, she spied the most curious utensil she’d ever seen: half spoon, half straw, complete with a friendly-looking snowman hugging the top. Olaf! 

With one hand on the railing, one hand holding a ball of sparkly blue tulle, and her mother’s hand carefully carrying the Olaf-topped treat, she descended the steep steps of the arena. She traveled by feel, her feet only intuitively seeking the steps ahead of her because her eyes were fixated on the ice rink at the center of the arena and the magical details decorating its surroundings. 

Marketing experts tell us about the “Magic of Disney” and bombard us with dazzling commercials featuring magical Disney memories. What they fail to tell you, however, is that the magic is real. I watched her face that evening, more than the show. The skaters skated, the aerialists twirled, the pyrotechnics were executed flawlessly, and Elsa enchanted the arena with magically suspended ice crystals. But I didn’t watch any of it. I watched her. I watched as her eyes sparkled brighter than the princess’s wand. I watched as her dimple carved its way into her right cheek more than the skates carved into the ice. I watched as she sat upright in the center of her seat, blindly shoveling half-spoon/half-straw scoops of melted slushie into her mouth so she wouldn’t miss a single performer or detail. I watched the real magic that night, not the show.