I ignored her, instead navigating around a line of kids waiting to have their picture taken with Cinderella, and skirted the Sleeping Beauty Castle, pressing through Fantasyland, which, at this time of day, was bumper to bumper strollers. I pushed my way through, only getting dinged in the heel twice. We reached the Small World ride just as the big moon-face guy and cuckoo clock people with their drums and cymbals were chiming the hour.

We hopped in line, winding our way through a maze of ropes and shrubbery trimmed to look like zoo animals until we reached our boats.

The last time I’d been here the ride had been shut down for refurbishment. When I’d asked why, I was told that they had to dig a deeper moat. When Walt Disney had first opened the ride, it was built to accommodate six average-sized men. Well, the size of your average American has almost doubled since then, and the weight of our fatter selves meant that the boats frequently bottomed out, getting stuck along the narrow canals. Every time this happened, the ride had to be shut down and the larger persons had to be escorted off the ride in a flurry of apologies and embarrassment. Consequently, the ride had been shut down to outfit it with deeper canals and new boats that were designed to hold guests of every size.

At the time, I’d been tickled to no end by the irony. Apparently, it isn’t really a small world after all.

We all crammed into a boat, Millie and Aunt Sue in front again, and started into the tunnel of singing dolls, the strains of that infectious song hitting my ears even before we entered.

As in the pirate ride, the smell of recirculated water permeated the cool caverns. The corners of the rooms were dark, but dozens of colored lights shone down on the main displays. There were so many things going on at once—dolls and animals and dancing, creatures popping out from corners—it would take a dozen trips through the ride to see them all.

We were about three minutes into the journey through the world of children when the repetitive song began to get to me, and I started getting antsy again. I leaned forward and poked Aunt Sue in the back.

“Hey! Let’s do it.”

Aunt Sue gave an exaggerated over-both-shoulders look, then winked at me. “Operation Hattie Drop commence.”

Oh, brother.

I bit my lip, scanning the rows of dolls for some sort of hidden watchtower as I heard Aunt Sue unscrew the top from her souvenir bottle.

“Shouldn’t we say a few words first?” Millie asked.

I shot her a look. “You’re serious?”

“She deserves to be laid to rest with dignity.”