This past Saturday was the elementary school's fall festival. When I was a child that was a very big to-do. My sister's and I went every year. I want to give Trey the same experience. He seemed to enjoy the festivities last year. So, we went again.
The night started with all you can eat pizza. (For Trey, this is one slice) Then Trey pulled me from the cafeteria to the gym "to play games". Playing games turned into repeated trips through the big, blow up, jumpy thing. (Sorry, my discriptive words fail me....its late). He played on this blow up obsticle course for over and hour. I finally convinced him that we should try out some other things before we had to leave. So, the next stop was at the big, blow up, bouncy cage. (Go figure). We did finally do a few things that did not involve blow ups or bouncing.
One of those things was letting him get his face painted. He waited patiently for his turn. When he got to go sit in the special chair he grinned shyly and told the face painter he wanted a turtle on his cheek. The lady glanced at me with a worried look and said she'd do her best. Trey was thrilled before he ever saw the turtle. When he did see it, he was amazed. "She made him look just like Oxley!" (His pet turtle) "How did she know him?"
He had a good time. When we left, I could tell he would sleep well that night. But, before we could get to the car he did something I knew he would eventually do to me. There was no way to avoid it. Every kid does this at least once to an adult. That night was my first experience with......'the loud questioning'. You know what I mean. (Don't you?)
There was an older gentleman walking ahead of us. He was using a cane. Trey says "Look Mommy, that man has broken legs". He didn't say it too loud. I felt like the man probably didn't hear. - gave Trey a weak acknowlegement and hoped he would drop it. "Mommy....his legs ARE broken! Look at him walk". (That was quite a bit louder. Pretty sure the man heard. Maybe he's deaf...) I tell Trey no, the man does not have broken legs. " But he is walking with a stick!". Trey announced even louder. (Why don't I just give him a microphone?). I squeeze Trey's hand a little tighter as we walk, trying to send him the secret signal to be quiet. But Trey is 3. He doesn't know secret signals yet. I tell him quietly but firmly that the man is just fine. Trey's still not buying it. He points out loudly again, "He walks funny with a stick. If his legs aren't broken why does he walk with a stick?!?".
At this point I'm ready to cover Trey's mouth with my hand and pick him up and run behind a shrub or something. The man had mercy on me and stopped walking. He turned to Trey and said, my legs aren't broke they just feel like it. He smiled and seemed friendly enough. I sighed, relieved. We walked by the man (but were still in ear shot) when Trey told me in a matter of fact way, "they FEEL broken, see Mommy, they FEEL broken!" I had to chuckle because Trey said this in a way that showed he thought he had been right. All I could do was shake my head and be glad the man didn't seem offended. It could have been worse. Somehow I feel that that was just a practice round for a more horrifying experience yet to come.
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