Twelve hours. Both hands free.
My first Disney day with both kids, I packed like I was outnumbered: water, sunscreen, two kinds of snacks, a spare outfit, a power bank and a backup pacifier. It all went into one small crossbody, and I wore it for twelve hours straight.
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My daughter was four and my son was two. In the queues I kept one hand on her and one on the stroller, and I never had to set the bag down or swap shoulders. When my son's outfit gave out before lunch, the spare was right there and we were back in line in minutes.
At the ninety-minute princess line, a handful of crackers bought me long enough for the meltdown to turn into a pigeon obsession. When my phone died, the charger was in the side pocket where I'd put it that morning. By the fireworks my son was asleep on my shoulder, and I tucked his sweatshirt around him one-handed without waking him.
That was around 22,000 steps in 90-degree heat, and the bag never moved. We've been back three times since with the same bag, packed the same way. Every time someone asks how it all fits, I stop trying to explain. I zip it up, take both kids by the hand and walk in with my whole day across my chest.
