Dear Fairy Godmother,
Yes, you. I know you exist. You must exist; otherwise, how else could I explain this incredible opportunity that has fallen our way? I've seen you grant wishes to other, way more deserving people. Last February you gave us a little taste of your magic.
And now, somehow you've arranged it so that oh, man, we're going to Disneyland. Yes, the Disneyland I've wanted to take my kids to since they were, oh, about 6 weeks old. I'd break into a joyful Disney song, except the neighbors might have me committed before we get a chance to go.
If I won the lottery, I don't think I would survive. Just the thought of this trip has turned me into a bundle of adrenaline-charged nerves. Now I'm yelling at the kids to walk down the stairs and take those slippery socks off because I don't want them to sprain an ankle or break a bone before we leave.
OK, I gotta go. I have to rent Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan from the library because my kids have never seen or read the Disney versions of these classics. I can't have them riding the catterpillar and flying pirate ship in Fantasyland wondering who the heck these characters are. I can't wait to don my Mickey ears and raise my Mickey-shaped ice cream bar and toast to your generosity. In the words of Cinderella, Thank you fairy godmother. Thank you.
PS: Since you are a fairy after all, maybe you could do something about this nasty CA Proposition 8 and send it back to The Underworld, where it belongs. Yes? Thanks.