There are people who go to Disneyland Paris with spreadsheets. I used to admire them from a distance. Now, I understand they’re not intense. They’re just negotiating with reality in advance. Because I went to Disneyland as one of them. Or at least, I thought I did.

I had done the research. The itinerary, the timings, the priorities, the backup plans, the snacks...lots and lots of snacks. If planning alone could guarantee success, we would have finished early, rested, and possibly be offering advice to other families in distress. Instead… Disneyland happened.

It started before we even left. The day before we flew, my daughter had a big football match in Roscommon at 4pm. It ran late. We got home later than planned. The “calm pre-holiday evening” became packing, checking, rechecking, and the familiar illusion that organisation can prevent chaos. Still, I felt ready.

The flight from Cork was smooth, one of those rare journeys where everything behaves itself and you briefly consider becoming someone who enjoys flying.

Beauvais was equally straightforward. Shuttle into Paris, no drama. Everything behaving too well to be trusted.

And then it properly began. The plan met reality. Food. Then snacks. Then emergency snacks. Then snacks purchased because the original snacks had started to feel emotionally inadequate.

Paris itself was, of course, spectacular. We started at the Arc de Triomphe, genuinely impressive, though the children were more interested in the pigeons conducting what looked like a full civic meeting on the........

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