Matthew could not keep his eyes open. Here we were - Hollywood Studios in Florida, the epitome of excitement, and my kid decides this is the time to take a nap? He leaned on poles, on me, on walls—basically, anything that supported him. The boy even dozed off while waiting in line for rides! Eventually, we stopped for lunch, thinking food might revive him. Nope. Once he finished eating, his head hit the table like a cement bag. Moments later... not a twitch. Out cold. For Matthew my ADHD kid, that’s the universal sign. He was done.
We tried to wake him gently, but you can’t reason with someone who’s reached a coma-level slumber. What’s a family to do? Oh, we walked away. That’s right. Cleaned up the table, tossed our trash, slid those super loud benches back into place (because why not?), and just strolled off. Meanwhile, Matthew stayed sprawled there, happily snoring in public like he owned the place.
Now, it gets better. I spotted a cast member nearby and, fueled by equal parts mischief and parental exasperation, asked her to help us out. She could hardly contain her laughter but eventually agreed. With some coaxing (OK, some light bullying from me), she tapped his arm gingerly. No response. She tapped again—harder this time, because this kid sleeps like a rock—until finally, she said with a perfect deadpan, “Excuse me, sir? Are you done with this table?”
Matthew bolted upright like a deer in headlights, drool prominently featured (a classic Matthew move). Confused, he scanned the scene only to realize he was utterly abandoned. The tables nearby? Filled with giggling spectators. His response to seeing us at a safe distance? “You guys SUCK as parents!”
Of course, embarrassment only wakes you up so much, so we figured it was time for drastic measures. Enter the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror. If plummeting 13 stories—four times in a row—doesn’t shake you out of nap mode, nothing will. Astonishingly, it worked. Matthew was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after that.
Parenting at its finest, folks!
