This week, we’re packing up the ol’ auto Bon and heading down to Florida. It should make for an interesting trip… Eight hours in the car with a little boy who mumbles gibberish like an auctioneer on “the sauce.” In Grayson’s (my son) case, milk – with a dash of Nilla wafer backwash – serves as his drink of choice.

While we’re in the sunshine state, Sarah and I plan to take the boy to Disney World. I figure this can go one of two ways.

A: He loves Mickey Mouse’s army of oversized characters, and even tolerates the heat and crowds of people.

B: He becomes “that kid,” raising hell in the happiest place on Earth.

Seriously, this is the first real “vacation” we’ve taken as a family. I feel so paternal. We’ve even bought a child leash to keep Grayson in check at the amusement park. I swore I’d never tether my kid, but with his sudden bouts of running toward bright objects, we want to be extra careful.

Ahhh, what a perfect postcard: Sarah struggling to get a grip on the toddler rope and me devouring a funnel cake, grease dripping down my shirt. Still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. The fact is, we’re going on a family trip.

For some odd reason, I feel like I’ve reached a new point in life. Maybe it’s the Ozzie and Harriet Rite of Passage. There’s just something about hitting the road with the wife and kid that seems slightly momentous.

I remember my father always getting ramped up for summer getaways. He’d watch the weather channel nightly in the days leading up to our departure. I’d go with him to fill up the gas tank, check the air pressure in the tires and buy snacks for the car. I didn’t think much of these preparations, until lately.

I wonder if he was proud to be able to take his family somewhere new, different. I know he didn’t say much during the drive, other than “Damn it, Stephen, look out your window and quit bothering your sister.” Still, I now understand the sense of accomplishment – even if it’s little that he must have felt.

Alright, enough nostalgia – I need to go pick up a collar for the boy.