Taking a four-year-old to a fall festival is a reminder that children operate according to an entirely different set of rules.
Unfortunately, they don’t distribute a copy of the handbook.
At our local fall festival, Ricky was frightened of Mickey and Minnie Mouse.
Why?
Because they were scary.
I asked no further questions. Instead, I channeled my inner child, and inserted myself promptly between them.
But for Ricky, apparently the matter had been thoroughly investigated and the findings were conclusive.
The witches from Hocus Pocus, however, were another story. Ricky was delighted to meet them.
So let me get this straight. Two oversized mice in cheerful costumes are a public safety concern, but three witches that draw children in so they can suck the life out of them are perfectly acceptable company.
I don’t know what criteria we’re using here, but I would like to see the evaluation form.
Meanwhile, fall continues in full swing. Pumpkin coffee, crisp air, long pine needles scattered invitingly. Sweata-weatha has arrived and my mood is as lighthearted and free as falling leaves.
Or at least as much as Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail.
So if Ricky gives something his approval, I’ll consider it. If he declares it scary, I’ll respect his decision.
And if three witches invite us over for tea, apparently, we’re good to go.
