When I saw that Disney Junior was airing “Alice in Wonderland” (the 1951 animated classic), I decided to record it for Olivia in case she would have some interest in it. She was certainly interested, to say the least.

I opted to introduce it during mealtime, so that she would be strapped into her highchair (or “stuck,” as she calls it), unable to run out of the room and distract herself with other things. I wanted to ensure that she gave it her full attention. From the moment the movie began, she was absolutely mesmerized. As I usually do when introducing a new book or movie, I excitedly drew attention to the sights and sounds on screen, in an effort to pique her interest, but it quickly became apparent that “Alice in Wonderland” needed no embellishment on my part. Olivia was hooked.

Over the days and weeks that followed that initial introduction, the request to “Watch Alice?” was repeated an average of three times a day. She quickly memorized the film’s sequence of events and learned to identify any particular scene based on simple auditory cues.

One afternoon, Olivia and I are sitting in her room, flipping through her animal alphabet book. She points to the pictures, correctly identifying the images. “Lion…llama.”

“Good job, Olivia.” I turn the page to the “M” animals, but Olivia suddenly exclaims, “Oh! The treasure cat!” and runs into the living room to stare fixedly at the television, where Alice is meeting the Cheshire Cat for the first time. She settles into her chair and we watch for a while, until the Mad Hatter’s tea party comes to a close, the little mouse descending from the fireworks and returning to his yellow teapot. Olivia leaps up from her chair and exclaims, “C’mon, Mama!” as she hurries back to her room. But she has tired of the animal alphabet. Instead, she pulls a different book from the shelf, hands it to me, and enthusiastically asks, “Want to read Alice?”

“Alice in Wonderland” has also inspired a new game that Olivia loves to play. We call it “falling down the rabbit hole.” I guess it’s not really much of a game. Basically, at any given moment, Olivia will send one of her dolls or little stuffed animals plummeting to the earth from what is, to her, a great height: the edge of her crib railing, the arm of the sofa, the side of her car seat. When the unfortunate toy hits the floor, Olivia cries out, “Uh-oh! He fell down a rabbit hole!” Practically everything she owns has fallen down at least one rabbit hole by now, but you can typically tell which toys Olivia favors most by how often they take an imaginary tumble into an underground burrow. Her favorite toys garner the most attention, of course, so, naturally, they suffer this fate most frequently. (Lucy the Mouse has probably fallen through close to a hundred rabbit holes over a period of six weeks.)

***

We recently enjoyed our annual Fourth of July vacation with my in-laws. There are a few hundred miles between us, so we don’t get to see them as often as we would like. To Olivia, it must have seemed as though she had fallen through a rabbit hole and into her very own Wonderland. Suddenly, her Grammy and Pops (and her aunt, uncle and baby cousin), with whom she can usually only visit via FaceTime on the iPad, were right there in front of her – in the flesh! Their presence alone was exciting to her. She could not get enough of them and felt the need to keep track of their whereabouts at all times. Whenever one of them would leave the room, we were sure to hear about it.

“Where’s Pops going? Oh, he went in the laundry room.” It was as though she worried that, at any moment, they could disappear, possibly zapped back into the confines of her iPad.

Olivia and I went downstairs for breakfast one morning and were surprised to find that Grammy was not in the kitchen as usual. “Where’s Grammy?” Olivia asked immediately.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I figured she’d be here. Maybe she’s on the patio.”

“Okay. Let’s go see,” she politely demanded. “We need to find Grammy.”

***

On top of the magic of seeing her family members temporarily released from iPad imprisonment, Olivia’s Wonderland adventure was full of more surprises. Although it stormed throughout most of our first day of vacation, it cleared up early that evening to reveal the most beautiful rainbow, which happened to be Olivia’s first ever rainbow sighting. Looking out at the magnificent, tranquil lake and dense canopy of trees, I see the full and complete arch of color stretching across the sky. I can’t imagine a more perfect setting in which to view a rainbow. Instead of grabbing my camera to memorialize this stunning image, I hoist Olivia onto my hip and rush outside before it vanishes.

The beauty of this spectacle was not lost on Olivia. She gazed at the giant, colorful arch reaching up from behind the trees, stretching high over the water and across the sky, and extending down behind another dense cluster of trees on the opposite shore of the lake. She was clearly impressed, perhaps speechless?

“Do you see that rainbow?” I ask her encouragingly.

Still gazing at the sky, she smiles and says, “I do see that rainbow!”

And so the adventures in Wonderland continue.

***

This was the Fourth of July, after all, so Olivia was able to witness a spectacular fireworks display put on by some neighbors across the lake. This was her first time seeing fireworks in person, and she could not have been more thrilled. As it got dark (and past Olivia’s bedtime), we sat by the large, picture window and waited patiently for the fireworks to appear.

“Where are you, fireworks?” Olivia would ask from time to time.

“Keep looking,” I would tell her. “They’re coming.”

“Oh, they’re behind the trees!” she suggests.

“You think?”

“I think.”

And then they begin.

“Oh, I see it!” She literally squeals with delight when the first firework explodes in the air, showering the sky and water below with sparks of bright, glittering light.

Olivia must have assumed that this was my first time viewing fireworks as well, and she took great care in making sure that I was not missing out on the extraordinary sights.

“Did you see that red firework, Mama? Did you see that purple firework?”

For dramatic effect, Olivia adjusts her volume to emphasize her exclamations. For a particularly impressive firework sequence, she exclaims, “Wow! That was a BIG firework?!”

This continues for about thirty minutes or so, until there is a long enough break for us to be able to convince Olivia that the fireworks are “all done” and that it is time to go to bed. I was surprised when she did not protest her bedtime at all; I had assumed that she would plead for more fireworks. But I suppose Wonderland had exhausted my sweet little girl, and she knew that she would need her rest to have enough energy for the next day’s adventures.

***

She was right. The sun shone brightly on our next day at the lake, so swimming was on the agenda. Olivia’s first reaction to the lake: “That is a BIG swimming pool!”

After only minimal reluctance, she jumped right in – literally. She thoroughly enjoyed swimming (that is, floating with assistance) in the giant swimming pool. Watching her in her dad’s arms, so small in this rather large body of water, I was reminded of a tiny, little Alice floating in a sea of tears. My little adventurer. My little dreamer.

***

Just as Alice’s dream had to come to an end, so too did our vacation in Wonderland. During the car ride home, I surprised Olivia with an appearance by her stuffed Mickey Mouse, with whom she had very little contact during our entire vacation. She enthusiastically engaged Mickey in conversation about her time at the lake.

“…Did you see me feed those geese, Mickey? That was so nice…I had so much fun…You’re driving in the car with me, Mickey!…”

Their conversation goes on for quite a while, with me playing the role of Mickey from time to time. Olivia then says, “Oh, Mickey, he’s so cute,” and she pulls him close to her, hugging him tightly. Seconds later, she suddenly releases him and tosses him over the side of her car seat.

“Uh-oh!” she says. “Mickey fell down a rabbit hole!”