Vacation Day 3

I figured out why we are at Disneyland.  It's to collect all of our emotions.  I started with Sadness and Disgust because, let's face it, that's me about 80% of the time.  And if I could lay on my back and have someone drag me around by my foot, I would sign up immediately.

Then after spending half the day trying not to get stepped on, I added Fear.  The boys spend as much time walking on my feet as their own.  This is how I look when their massive clod-hoppers are coming my way.

And it quickly turns to anger, and people look at me like I'm the worst mother in the world because they don't know that I've been, literally, walked on for 12 years.

When John and the boys went back to the park to watch the fireworks and I stayed in the room with ice on my knee because I'm old, I sent him a text asking him to bring me back some Joy because I really needed it.  He sent me this reply:

that's her little yellow arm sticking out of John's backpack

The next morning, John was having a really tough time.  He was trying to find out the street address of the rental car company at the airport but wasn't having much luck.  He made four separate phone calls from the room, not counting the times he was cut off and was getting more and more incensed by the minute.
John, "I just want to know the actual street address."
Their responds, "What's your reservation number?"  "Are you still picking up the car today?" "Would you like an upgrade?"  "Paper or plastic?"
I tried to help and called the local office.  They gave me the address in about 30 seconds but that just made him madder.  Until he realized that I was given the same wrong address he had been given.  That made him feel a little better.

We eventually made it down to the lobby and he tried a couple more times to extract the, apparently top-secret, street address and only managed to get ahold of a guy who may or may not have been speaking English.  He was infuriated.  I was doing my best to help by offering lots of really good suggestions but it just wasn't working.  He needed Joy.  So I tried to give him my Joy but he was having nothing to do with it.

Me, "Here, hold my Joy."
John, "You need to get away from me."
Me, "But it's JOY!"
John, "Don't touch me with that thing."
Me, "Hmmm, you are sounding more like Disgust. Do you want to hold Disgust."
John, "Go Away. Now."

I tried again when we got in the cab.

He gave Joy the bird.  Or maybe he gave me the bird, I'm not sure.  I rested Joy in my bag so she could gaze upon him during the car ride and radiate Joy in his direction.  I know he appreciated this deep down inside but couldn't admit it because he was ashamed to have previously rejected the Joy.  That's okay, I know what he needs even when he doesn't.