So, I just woke Avery up after she had herself a 3 hour nap, probably due to her extreme exhaustion that stemmed from a holiday weekend chock full of candy AND craziness!
I think the scariest thing that befell our family this Sunday happened to occur when we ventured to the nearby village, where they held a holiday “festival” and the kids were encouraged to trick-or-treat at the various stores.
There were upwards of a million people there... and Avery was not happy to be a part of the festivities.
Let us begin with the walk there. We are not going to comment on the wedge-heeled boots I decided to wear (but they were so cute with my outfit!) or the fact that we had to hike 27 miles to get to our destination from the parking spot- no. I think it best to focus on the fact that (from the very beginning) we were nearly run over by 4 seven-year-olds, each with his very own Spider Man costume, ready to either save the day or run over unsuspecting toddlers that dared to stand on the sidewalk.
Within moments the baby started screaming in fear, mostly because of the gentleman dressed up in the Stony Brook University's mascot uniform: the seawolf. The guy was obviously trying to be nice- he waved and laughed- but when he smiled and a hundred sharp fangs glistened in the sunlight, Avery screamed and ran toward the nearest shop.
That was the first of the fearful experiences of the day.
Shortly afterward, Kyle walked with her into Godiva (where I was sure there would be GREAT trick-or-teat candy!). Within moments, he walked out carrying a screaming child in his arms (and no candy).
“She saw Michael Meyers”
“You know- from 'Halloween'? She saw Michael Meyers, and she's not happy.”
After that fiasco, we began walking back. This whole festival was not turning out as I had planned. Kyle let her walk around on her own as we got to the village center, but I trudged onward. I noticed within seconds that they were both right next to me again, Avery in Kyle's arms.
“Uh...” Kyle motioned toward Avery's little feet.
“What? Wait, where's her...”
Gone. One of her little orange crocks that I had bought specifically for this duck costume was... gone.
“It's, uh, down the drain.”
Sure enough, when I looked down the drain, there was her little shoe: staring up at me. Mocking me. Bastard.