So I took the girls to this Halloween carnival monster mash festival thingy over the weekend. It was mostly indoors at a local elementary school. And it was insanely packed.
As soon as we get there 2 1/2 year-old Summer says, “Can we go home now?” which is not the most promising sign when you arrive at a kid-focused event. But we press on. I maneuver us through the crowded hallways and manage to find the girls a nutritious, organic lunch cold pizza.
Then they want dessert.
Summer picks out a cupcake.
And Dylan opts for a snow cone. We wait in line for the snow cone and then decide it’s time to escape the chaos. I just refuse to be pressed up against strangers if I’m not either on the #5 express train or drunk. As we FINALLY near the school’s exit, Summer says…
“I want a snow cone.”
“But you have a cupcake,” I respond, feeling panic start to seize my upper back.
“BUT I WANT A SNOW CONE. PLEASSSSSSSSE,” she says.
I know I have a choice: endure a major crazy meltdown because Summer is an hour past her nap time or buy the kid a lousy snow cone. I know what a proper parent should do. But somehow I can’t muster up the courage. (Plus I figure that balloon boy family really lowered the bar for good parenting anyway.)
We push our way back into the Halloween madness and buy Summer her “This is really a very special treat and normally you will have only one dessert and you better appreciate how insanely awesome this is” snow cone.
As soon as I hand Summer her snow cone, Dylan says, “I don’t want my snow cone. It’s too cold.” Right. Because of the snow.
And just as we get ourselves back outside again, Summer says, “I don’t want my snow cone either. It’s too cold.” Again, that pesky snow and ice issue.
As we race off to check out a kiddie train ride, I overhear a mother say to her child…
“No, you can’t have another cookie. There is no more food. The carnival is entirely out of food. If you’re hungry, let’s go home and you can have some fruit.”
If her kid bought it, that mom is a genius.