It's a Small World Holiday 2025 Edition - Disneyland California

The December air in Anaheim held a rare, brisk chill, just enough to warrant zipping up hoodies and clutching hot chocolates tightly. But as we rounded the corner near the Matterhorn, the ambient temperature seemed to rise, warmed not by the weather, but by sheer incandescent joy.

There it was. The facade of "it's a small world" Holiday.

During the rest of the year, it is a charming pastel palace of geometric shapes. But at Christmastime, it transforms into something almost overwhelming. It was as if a giant pixie had overturned a treasure chest of luminescence onto the building. hundreds of thousands of twinkling lights—reds, greens, and brilliant golds—traced every turret, archway, and stylized flower. The famous grinning clock face bobbed back and forth, now jauntily wearing a massive red Santa hat.

The queue was a winding ribbon of anticipation. The usual park chatter was softened, replaced by a collective murmur of awe as everyone gazed upward. We drifted closer to the loading dock, the familiar smell of the attraction greeting us—that unique mixture of treated water, machine oil, and, specifically for the season, faint wafts of artificial pine and peppermint pumped into the air.

We stepped gingerly into the boat, feeling that familiar little wobble as it settled into the flume. The safety bar clicked down. Ahead, the dark mouth of the entry tunnel beckoned, framed by shimmering silver snowflakes.

As the boat slipped into the darkness, the outside world of churro carts and crowds vanished. The music began instantly. It was the tune everyone knew—the repetitive, cheerful Sherman Brothers melody—but it had been dipped in pure holiday magic. Sleigh bells jingled underneath the beat, and the melody seamlessly wove in and out of "Jingle Bells" and "Deck the Halls," played on instruments that sounded like delicate glass chimes.

We emerged from the tunnel into the North Pole. The air was cooler here. Gliding across glittery ice were dolls bundled in thick woolen parkas, fishing through ice holes and waving from igloos. And there, towering over the scene, was the massive snowman, glowing from within, holding a sign that read: HAPPY HOLIDAYS.

The boat drifted effortlessly into Europe. The scene was a Dickensian dream. Children sang carols under gas lamps in London, while in France, can-can dancers kicked their legs beneath garlands of holly. The scent of gingerbread suddenly grew strong, a warm, spicy cloud that made my stomach rumble happily. In Holland, the tulips were dusted with frost, and dolls in wooden shoes skated on mirrored ponds reflective of a thousand tiny lights.

We floated into Asia, where the delicate architecture was capped with snow. Bamboo stalks were wrapped in silver tinsel, and Japanese dolls in beautiful kimonos held parasols dusted with white powder. The fusion of culture and Christmas felt seamless and gentle.

The warmest regions brought the biggest smiles. In Africa, the elephants and giraffes weren't left out; they wore jaunty red scarves and Santa hats perched precariously on their heads. The jungle beat of the drums was underscored by the jingling sleigh bells. In South America, the rainforest was alive with poinsettias, and cacti were strung with colored bulbs like prickly Christmas trees.

It was a sensory overload in the best possible way. Everywhere you looked, a new detail popped out: a mermaid wearing a candy cane necklace in the South Seas; a kangaroo with a wreath around its neck in Australia. The dolls, with their identical eyes and synchronized movements, sang in their native languages, a global choir united by the season.

Finally, the boat turned the corner for the grand finale.
The transition was breathtaking. We moved from the vibrant, multi-colored regional rooms into a blinding, beautiful sea of white and gold. The enormous final room was a vision of peace. Every surface glittered with iridescent frost. The dolls from all the nations were gathered together, dressed entirely in white robes trimmed with gold, singing in unison on a massive, tiered structure that looked like a celestial wedding cake. Overhead, a gigantic postcard stamped with "PEACE ON EARTH" hung suspended among golden angels.

The music swelled, a triumphant, choral crescendo that felt like a warm hug. It was cheesy, yes. It was simplistic, absolutely. But in that moment, floating through the glittering white room, surrounded by the innocent, hopeful faces of the dolls, the cynicism of the adult world just melted away. You really did feel, just for a minute, that it was a world of laughter and a world of hope.

The boat bumped gently against the bumper ahead as we approached the exit dock, snapping the spell. We climbed out, legs a little stiff, the melody still chiming cheerfully in our ears. As we walked up the ramp and back out into the cool California night, the lights of the facade seemed even brighter than before, carrying the warmth of the ride out into the rest of the park.