My daughter has big plans to go on Splash Mountain and Thunder Mountain Railroad in December when we visit Disneyland. Granted, the monkey is only going to be four, but she meets the height requirement for both.
However, based on my Space Mountain debacle, I plan to give her a taste of what to expect. Today we trolled YouTube for some videos of the rides. Who knew a home video of Splash Mountain could be so riveting?
(Okay, I didn’t think it was that thrilling, but the monkey sure did. She wanted to watch it over and over and over. And over.)
Now she knows what to expect.
I have an idea from a book’s cover art and the dust jacket blurb what I’m getting myself into. Usually. Sometimes I have no clue. The blurb for Little Bee by Chris Cleave is intentionally mum, but the book was AMAZING. I didn’t mind being on the dark on that one.
However, when a book says it’s one thing (historical fiction) and turns out to be another (Gay lesbian fiction or erotica or fantasy… or all three) that’s where I get persnickety. I’m pretty open-minded about reading just about anything, but I want you to tell me up front what I’m going to be reading. If you fling a genre change on me half-way through I’m going to be ticked.
I don’t think any author wants truly ticked-off readers. That’s just all-around bad.
Okay, folks- now I’m off to my couch, trying to fight a rather persistent cold bug. (This is the monkey’s first year in preschool and she’s a walking petri dish. Blecch.)
Happy weekend, everyone!
Photo from Disney Vault.